The Inscrutable Box

“Don’t know. When the box got wet, the writing ran. Doesn’t help that the light down here is really crummy.”

Roy reached back and dragged the hand truck over. “Let’s get it out where we can get a better look at it then.”

Struggling, we sweated, cursed and, eventually, shifted the box the six inches onto the hand truck’s noseplate. Roy smirked and tried to tip the hand truck back but lost the expression when it didn’t move. He shoved at the handle, which vibrated some, but didn’t have a lot more effect than previously.

“What in the sam hill?”

I could only shrug my bewilderment while I gazed at the recalcitrant box still defiantly lurking beneath the stairs.

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