I Am MahoganyBox…
Tucked way at the back of a dark, dusty shelf, on an upper floor of an old library, sits a small mahogany box: well-worn yet polished to a soft warm patina; smooth to the touch and smelling faintly of the old books and sawdust. Of course there is a lock, but the key isn't hard to find. Inside the box rests a tiny bit of old silver...
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