The Box

I see him brought a box everyday.
He always hold it tight, there on his hand.
I meet him everyday, but i dont have any reason to ask.

We were in the empty aisle, waiting for the long lift. It was eighteenth floors.
He didn't look at me. Usual routine.
Ding.
The lift comes. Its only two of us going down.

I look at him and my mouth moves by itself.
"What is the box for?"
He looked at me. I should stop saying something unmindful. He looked away.
"...It looks empty." I continued. I exhaled the breathe.

It was on the tenth floor.
"Feelings." He finally answered. "Just feelings, aside those from your heart."
I look to the front, peeking the floors number. It is fifth.
"How so?" I didn't look at him.

He inhale his breathe. I can't see his expression.
Ding.
Second floor. He push the open button. The lift wide open.
He took one step. Then he stops.
"You don't have any box, aren't you?"

Then he went away.
I standing still. Lift closed.