you examine the desk.

it has an untouched holy feeling. you feel like you're intruding somehow.

it's covered in candles of all shapes and sizes. most of them are melted directly to the desk.

you begin to scrape the wax off without even noticing.

you pick up one of the many dried flowers off the table and roll it around in you fingers.

it crumbles to dust.

your eyes drift to the box in the corner of the desk.

unlike the rest of the things in the room, it has no intricate embellishments. it only has a single golden lock.

what do you do?

try to open the box or leave