I hold an ache inside my chest that should never be allowed to exist. I have built a box inside of a box, and yet another box to hold them both. All three boxes lock with a key. My plan is to place my ache inside these boxes and then to bury them deep in the earth, in a cemetery that has no name, but I know I never will. As I stare at these boxes that I made with my own hands, by my own choice, the sun rises and sets. Another day.