“Oh, how cruelly sweet are the echoes that start, when memories plays an old tune on the heart”. Yes, I am talking about the evocative sound that starts to play whenever I unfasten the red box. Whether it was the letter or the wrist-watch, I have stored them safe and sound, on an undisclosed place. The red box was the last gift Fiorel, my best friend, gave me for the very last time on my 20th birthday. The stuffing was not that precious but the tenderness and so many guiltless emotions are entangled with that red box. I still remember the first touch; the first poem she wrote on the wrap of the box; the song that I sang all because of that red box. But today, she is no more with me, but left behind that red box with the memories of all the mirth, the facts behind the reason of our cascading tears. Wherever she is today, don’t know how she is, but the red box will linger as an important part of our life and a reminiscence of our love.