Intricate box.

There once was a girl. She was not too tall, not too short, she had plain brown eyes and a pale complextion. Plain brown hair and plain looking clothes.
She was not special, she was no genius, she had no special talents and she always tried to please.

This girl, this girl of 5'5" with the plain brown eyes and the plain brown hair, with the plain smile and plain pale complextion had a secret.
This girl had a box. This box was not plain, however, this box was more intricate. Its lid of the finest woven silks placed upon the finest wood.
Holding the most intricate designs of dragons and flowers, of butterflies and dragonflies. Of waters from a river.
This most interesting and intricate device was always held in her hands. Held out, held closed.

Each day this girl would stand there with her hands held out wide, the box set perfectly perched upon them. Every day people would pass her by as she stood there waiting.
Waiting for someone to come along and perhaps inquire about the box. Each day she stood silent and waited. In rain and snow, sleet and hail, in sunshine and clouds.
Per chance a day would come when a soul would become curious, and stalk up to the girl, eyes full of curiousity stared as they would inspect the box.
Where they would ask about the contents, and with quiet plain brown eyes she would just stare. Some were lucky to stick around, to talk to the silent child
sometimes about life... or buissness. Silently she would listen, loudly they would talk. Longer they stayed the luckier they were.

Once in a while she would open said box for an individual and they would dig in the seemingly bottomless box and grip a hand full of feelings. Take them out, bathe in them
the when they felt the need to find something better, something new, after their curious nature was piqued they would turn and leave.

Slowly those plain brown eyes would get dull, the more people too the sadder her eyes became. The greedier they were the harder it was for her to stand.
There was too many curious people and not enough in her box to fullfill their wants. She was a pleaser, her plain brown eyes reflecting pain.
Her body meek and cowardly. There was never anybody to hold her up, and take her hand. To make her smile or even move. No one to help her out of her agony.

So everyday she would stand there watching and waiting. Each day as silent as the last... Until one day, she caught a glimpse. With her plain pale hand she reached out
and within her plain average grasp she took within it a boy. And this boy, held a box similar to hers. This tiny little box of inticate desgines to balance his plain looks.
And this is where she found somebody. Somebody to stand with her on that lonely street holding a box, someone silent like her to share the ground
someone to turn to and stare out when everything seemed cruel.

Days past into weeks, weeks into months.... Then one cold day the girl turned with silence and the boy followed suit and with a soft plain voice she spoke for the very first time.

"Here is my box, it is of my own design. I was born with this box and over the years it has been emptied of its contents.
I know its not much... but please take this box. For I want you to have the last piece of my heart."

The boy looked to her and with plain lips he smiled, his hand holding out his own intricate box as he spoke for the very first time.

"This is my box, it is of my own design. I was born with this box and over the years it has been emptied of its contents.
I know its not much... but please take this box. Fo I want you to have the last piece of my heart."

With her plain lips in a smile and his in one two they traded boxes to each other.

Hand in hand, the plain boy and girl with the intricate boxes crossed back into the paths of the passerbyers.

Love.

The boxes were their heart, and when there was no more left to give, they still gave in hope.

The plain boy and girl fell in love with the intricate box.