A story about a box isn't interesting. That's what you think.
Maybe I put that box inside your chest cavity, with a finger puppet that I stored there when you weren't looking?
If you had a ring of three wishes, your first would be that you could have three hands. Your second would be that I have three boobs. You wouldn't even care about the third wish: you'd just drop the ring and start grabbing.
You should have wished that my extra breast had nerves.
Me. I'd pick up the ring and wish that you'd pay attention to my hands. You'd see them doing that martial arts move where I reach my hand inside your weak little body and snatch the puppet out of the box.
I slip on the finger puppet. It looks like a dump truck.
You know I have a sensory disorder. You know I hate the feel of my finger encased in a mitten. But I'm fair and this has to hurt me too.
I wiggle that little truck, and when I'm done, I say dump. The empty box goes upside down and nothing falls throughout your body. Nothing fills you up.
The power of regifting.
The First Date:
Remember our first date? We found out we shared a birthday and decided to share a cake but not the candles?
We did agree on that.