Obudziłem się i odkryłem, że cały mój basen jest wypełniony Orbeezem – gdy w końcu odkryliśmy, co kryje się na dnie, radiowozy zaczęły przyjeżdżać do naszego domu w ciągu kilku minut

The case was transparent and perfectly sealed.

Inside were drawings.

Dozens at first. Then hundreds.

Folded letters. Friendship bracelets. Origami birds. Small toys. A stuffed dinosaur with one missing eye. A baseball card. A paper crown.

And resting across the top of everything was a little yellow shovel.

Inside were drawings.

The crack near the handle faced me.

My knees folded.

Carmelo caught my arm and lowered me onto the patio step.

Nobody spoke.

Not the officers.

Not the firefighters.

Not even the neighbors behind the fence.

The crack near the handle faced me.

The display case settled onto a blue tarp.

Detective Rios knelt beside it.

One bundle of letters had a paper label tied around it.

He read the words.

“What does it say?” I asked.

Rios looked toward another officer.

“Call the community center.” He stood. “Ask for the festival director.”

“What does it say?”

The acrylic case stayed sealed.

Procedure, they told us.

Everything had to be photographed before anyone opened it.

Every item logged.

Every surface checked.

I sat beside the pool while the bright Orbeez drifted into corners like pieces of a celebration nobody had explained.

Procedure, they told us.

***

At 11:12, a small silver car stopped beside the curb.

A woman stepped out wearing mismatched shoes and a cardigan buttoned wrong.

I recognized her as Mrs. Lewis, director of the town community center.

She saw the case.