They taped off an area of their floor that resembled the crate. Each one stacked the virtual crate with boxes. It became apparent that they only had room for kitchen objects. They wanted to bring numerous other goods, including a Dear, Dear Espresso Machine. Each negotiated for trinkets: Do you really need this? Yes. You never use it. That’s non-negotiable. We don’t have room. I love that thing. Ok, fine…fine, we can leave it. The crate arrived and they filled it over a weekend. It was like Tetris. More compromising took place. Throughout they were angry and happy. And then it was done. They padlocked it shut and set it across two continents and an ocean. Their dismantled apartment was littered with materials that were currently theirs but fated for others.
Two weeks later they arrived with just their clothes and collapsed. They thought what they had wasn’t enough, until it became enough.
Months later the crate arrived. The truck that brought the crate was tailed by a Ferrari. It was for the next delivery.
The question: Do we even need this stuff?
They spoke metaphorically. They had to unload the crate. The truck driver and Ferrari had to move on.
The boxes were piled into an empty room. They weren’t touched. A bouquet of traveled cardboard lived behind a closed door.
Exhaustion is recoverable. Curiosity isn’t. Unpacking became better than Christmas. They unwrapped everything they wanted.