The source

I was sifting through some stationeries in the drawer last night and stumbled upon the red box.

It was a forgotten piece. I remember it used to contain old passport photos and stamps. I lifted the lid and let out a small gasp.

I held some of the old photos in my hand and admired them.

It was so obsolete. I travelled through time.

A knowing smile escaped my lips.

The source of my past happiness and sadness, all in a little red parcel.

Life's little ironies seems to make life itself more beautiful.