Two Boxes

I give to you a story in eleventy-one words...

He had seen them up close many years before. At the age of six he had thought them as big, tall boxes. The had made little impression.

He remembered them next from afar as he had trekked with his mother and father to school. They had given him comfort – he understood in retrospect – though he hadn’t known why.

He had seen them on the television in the common room. Gaping holes puffed smoke into the clear morning, mingling quietly with the clouds. In the blink of an eye, they fell.

He touched a few unknown names and looked into the pools. Big wet boxes, he thought. It is an appropriate tribute.