Pandora is given a box. Quite simply, she must never open it.
And Pandora is normally very good at following rules.
Until she isn't.
Out comes her curiosity and out comes the contents of her box.
It's not all the disasters you've read about in t...
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𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑙. PANDORA GETS A BOX
•••
I grunted, stepping down the stairs blindly, the large cardboard box in my hand blocking my view.
"Here, I'll take it." He effortlessly plucked the large bundle off my palms, dropping it into the car outside. I heard the slam as he closed the boot, my exhausted limbs dropping down onto the floor into a heap of exhaustion.
"Is that all, Dory?"
I huffed at my father, the nickname nagging at my nerves.
"Yes, that's all. And for the love of all things holy—do not call me that again," he pressed his hand against his mouth, stifling a laugh. "Please?" I begged.
"Okay, okay. Fine. Dory."
That did it.
He bent over, laughing hysterically. After a minute, I joined in with him, his arms drawing me into an embrace.
"I'm going to miss you, Dory." His hug tightened for a split second before he let me lean out of his hold.
"So am I. But not that nickname of yours," I shook my head to myself, "definitely not."
"Fine. Pandora it is. Now come on," he grabbed his keys off the countertop, "otherwise you'll miss your flight."
•••
New York was different. I was used to the tumult of wind and the patter of rain across my windowpane but not the immense buzz of traffic and the constant honking of angry drivers.
I shoved the small number of belongings I had into the cupboards, trampling around my new apartment in boredom.
It was bright and airy, the large windows surrounding the high walls giving way to the beautiful scene of the landscape. The setting sun spread a golden hue over the tall buildings, the light spreading over my apartment's interior in a yellow wash of colour.
Dragging my laptop out of its case, I cushioned into the brand new sofas. My fingers danced over the keyboard as I researched the school I'd be working at for the next two years. Their syllabus was identical to the same I'd taught at my old school.
Except for one thing.
Pandora.
I narrowed my eyes at the screen.
Frowning, I reread their teaching curriculum. They taught Pandora as a set text.
I wanted to cringe at my name, silently cursing the mother that had named me with a label that mimicked her selfish desires. Her greed.
•••
Pandora was a girl of impatience. Pandora was curious. Pandora opened the box.
