Thousand: Six Hundred Fifty-Six

and sees her fingers silhouetted. Not imagining that, the girl says to herself. If only the darn thing were emitting enough light to be useful. She rubs the surface as though to encourage it and to her pleased surprise the box responds, its gold glow advancing to a glimmer. She rubs it some more. A gleam. A glisten. The rubbing has wakened the box somehow. It vibrates gently as the light increases. The girl raises the box above her head, where it won’t dazzle her dark-adapted eye. She blinks impatiently. Her left hand resolves first, clutching the creased and tattered