The sun reflected off the water and danced on the young woman's light beige skin as she canoed to the stream's edge. Though tired, she was enjoying the peaceful music of birds in the trees arching over her head. When she pulled the canoe out of the water, her foot caught on something hard and she tumbled into a nearby tree.
She regained her footing, got her canoe ashore, then shimmied free from her life vest. Catching her breath, she removed twigs from her long brown hair and looked around to see if she could spot what she had tripped over. In a clump of ferns between her and the stream, she noticed a tan rectangle peeking through the greenery.
Tires crunched on gravel in the distance as she walked closer to the stream. A wooden slat box, two feet wide, sat on bent and broken ferns. The box smelled of pine and its metal hinges were shiny grey. The young woman's dark green eyes sparkled as she imagined all the possible things the box could contain.
Twigs snapping made her glance up; her sister stood a few feet away in a navy blue windbreaker, its hood pulled up against the light breeze.
"Look," said the young woman, as she turned to the box.
She pushed aside ferns and revealed the tan slats; painted on them in thick fresh black strokes was a six and a four.