The note on the box was printed in neat block letters. Her name. Her address. No postage was visible and the box was tied closed with twine.

She looked up and down the street as if she thought whoever had left the box might still be visible, but there was no one. Two birds on the phone line, a cat on the porch across the street, no other living things that she could see.

The box was an awkward size and she banged her hand on the door jamb as she wrestled the box through the heavy screen door and into the house.

The girl used her car key to cut the twine when she found the knot too difficult to untie. Roughly nine billion styrofoam packing peanuts poured out onto the floor and with them, a black violin case.