The Carved Box

The carved box was in pride of place on the coffee table, next to a vase of fresh daisies. Each of the pieces was a token of some love or amusement that had quickly gone sour. Jane had heard the stories multiple times and surprised herself on a dreary afternoon by encouraging Grace to tell them again. All it took was leaning over to open the mahogany box and finger the jade earrings.

"Was this one from the drunk?"

Grace nodded slowly, with a private smile, stirring her coffee a few times before barking out a delighted laugh. The past is a place that can be visited easily enough, Jane thought, watching Grace smile wickedly through the retelling, enjoying her decades-old trick with a fresh glee. How shortly after receiving these vivid little jewels she had placed her red-painted lips all over the backside of that married lover's sky blue boxers. How he dressed in the dark of her tiny dormitory room, early morning. He had kissed her forehead while she pretended to sleep. And it was only when his footsteps were down the hall that she had allowed herself a torrent of laughter, like she enjoyed again now. It was hard to say what had happened next whether the fat schoolteacher wife saw them or not, but he called and cursed at her for a short while before she hung up. Jane joined in, before sputtering the almost scripted line "But why would you do this?". Grace adored the opportunity to explain her punishments.
--No it wasn't politeness but genuine fascination. What must it have been like to be so beautiful?

--And as if it had happened yesterday, Grace ticked off her sharp dissatisfaction, the way he stunk of garlic and was selfish in bed. And that he refused to leave his fat schoolteacher