In her hand was a battered, Smurf-shaped lunch box. Decades of saltwater erosion had faded the Smurf’s facial features to almost nothing. Jennifer handed it to him. He took it and just stood there, frozen solid, gawking at the lunch box like it had just burst into song. After a long pause, he found his voice. “Wh-where was this?” he stammered. “Propped outside the front door,” she said with a confused shrug. “It’s for you, apparently. There’s a note taped to the back. Incredibly odd, no? It looks a million years old.”
she ateeee
