January 22--Zack Burris, Postcards. Janine tugged the box out from between the rafters where the roof met the attic floor. It took all her courage to stretch her hand out into that dark and dusty unknown. She kept expecting to feel tiny paws running up her arm or tiny teeth clamped on her fingertips. Through gritted teeth she said, "come on, come on" as the box slid over the thick layer of dust on the floor. Once the box was out far enough for her to sit up and pull it into the light she saw that it wasn't cardboard at all. It was a golden maple box with a tiny gold keyhole below the lid. "You'd better not be locked after all the trouble I've gone to bringing you into the light." The lid lifted easily. She was glad. She would have hated to ruin the beautiful box just to see what was inside. The box was filled with letters and postcards, all of them addressed to Miss Alice Hamilton. Granny Fawn's name had been Alice so this must have been her box and these must be her letters. Janine's fingers trembled a bit as they lifted the first fragile envelope. It was pale blue with a purple stamp on it. She could barely read the address but by tilting it toward the window she saw that it had been sent right to this very house.
That's it for me today. Time to shower and do all that "going to work" stuff. *sigh* It's winter. I should get to stay home to play with yarn and fabric, maybe take a little couch nap, and get my paycheck in the mail. That sounds just about right, don't you think? Never happen. I'm outta here.
--Barbara
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