Under Lock and Key

She bent down to pick up the box at her feet - it was about the size of a shoe box, but rather heavy. She placed the wooden box on the table and and dragged a finger across the carving on the top. The scene was of a long ago battle, or perhaps a battle that had never taken place; men and horses and swords featured prominently. It was not a pretty carving, but the craftsmanship was very beautiful. She looked at the box a moment longer, admiring the dove-tail joints, the smoothness of the corners from years of handling. Eventually she put her hand into her pocket and drew out a key on a fine gold chain. Bending down, she unlocked the box and tucked the key away.

As she lifted the lid the scent of stale air caught in her nose, mixed with the smell of dried paper and a faint whiff of lavender. She lifted out some old photos and letters, a dried sprig of flowers, and a few pieces of costume jewelry. These trinkets hardly needed to be kept under lock and key, but somehow they seemed more like a secret treasure when she was the only one to have access.

She looked through the photos, and reread some of the notes. After a while, she carefully replaced the items into the box, and snapped the lid shut.