The box appeared on the doorstep. The red bow, the allure of a gift awaited the recipient. Redemption in a package. But for whom? The seller or the receiver?
The age didn’t matter now, only what she carried with her, in her heart and mind. No one was paying attention. No one but her and what awaited in the bow tied red box.
A promise that was never delivered was now sitting on her front door step. For how long could it keep it’s promise? A day? A month? Perhaps, the box needed more time, for she was out of it, time having run out for her.
Still, ever so gingerly lifting the lid, was this what she had been waiting on for so many years?
The promises were never kept. Empty at most, at best, she moved on to other boxes with red pretty bows. Holding out hope even though her time had come and gone and now age was thought of as a thief, robbing the lucky wearer of a valiant resolution, only to have the lid shut on it again.
Another empty promise in a bottle found inside a box with a pretty red bow delivered to a front door step.
For her, time, the evil thief, had stolen it from her when she was not looking but the red bow never aged, it remained intact inside the white box holding the fountain of youth