Her first memory was lifting the box open, the sun blinding her eyes and gracing her tender skin.
She had carried that box around her for as long as she could remember.
It was all she had, the only thing that kept her bound to the past.
But at the same time, it was the one weight she wished she could lose.
It was as if she was born to drag the box around with her.
Everyone knew she was Pandora because of the box she carried.
And for this many people turned their backs on her.
And yet in spite of how heavy it was, it was still an empty box.
Where people expected to find trouble inside it, there was nothing.
Why is it that so many people see empty boxes as nothing but trouble?