The Box. It had always been there, at the back of the closet. He could not remember the first time he saw it. For the longest time it did not bothered him. He forgot about it, buried under their new #life together. Nevertheless, recently he had found himself thinking about the box more and more. He was getting obsessed to find out what was inside of it. He used to take it on his hands and stare at it when she was not at home. His fingers ran over the top and lock a million times, wondering how to open it. One Saturday morning he couldn’t wait anymore and forced his way in. Inside he found the pictures of old boyfriends, the stubs of that first movie they saw together; dried flowers he could not remember and at the bottom of everything he found a picture of them. She was at the door with her bags and he was still in the living room, staring at the scattered contents of the broken box. In the back of the picture she had wrote “The worst mistake of my #life”. Next to the picture, he found a piece of her hearth. Only then he realized he was looking at his own past.