Dust

It was a week after his grandfather’s funeral that he remembered the incident.

He’d been a youngster when it happened, but he had a clear memory of what took place in the shed, way back then. The old man was in there with something clamped in the vice. He was filing something when he had gone in to see what he was doing. The old man had answered some of his childish questions and he just stood watching. His eyes had landed on a small, metal cash box with a tiny key sitting in the keyhole. He had moved forward to pick it up, when his grandfather snatched it off the benchtop. He was angry!

The whole thing had stuck with him, because his grandfather was a kind and gentle soul, hardly ever saying a cross word. That had always been the case, until that day. The old man had shouted at him saying that he should no better than to interfere with other people’s belongings. The whole episode was so strange, with him turning quite vicious about the boy’s natural curiosity.

Now, standing in that same shed, having agreed to do a little tidying up, he had the opportunity to find the metal box. He started by doing a sort of all the rakes and brooms, before tidying the shelves on the racks that were fixed to the walls. If he came across it by doing this, all the better. That didn’t work. So, after straightening everything up, he began to hunt in earnest. He searched for another half-an-hour before discovering that it had been moved to a cardboard box with other bits and pieces. This had been pushed to the back, beneath the bench.

At last, he was now holding the box in his hand. There was no key for the box. However, knowing that there was no point looking for it, he found a large screwdriver that he could use to force the thing open. Cracking the lid free, he opened it and peered inside. In there, he found a piece of browning paper that had been folded twice in to a small square. As he picked it up, it began to crumble. When he attempted to unfold the paper it all began to flake apart. He could just make out some fading hand-written letters on some of the larger bits.

He thought, not even his favourite forensic scientist from the current tv show he’d been watching could do anything with this!

He stood, looking down at the fragments in the palm of his hand. Poking them gently with his finger tip, they simply broke up even further. Blowing on it made it all float to the floor like so much dust.

With a sigh, he realised that he would never know!

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