F3 Pandora

     It was a jar, not a box. Most people get that wrong, thought it's pretty easy to do, I guess. Modern people aren't used to locking things into jars, so it's only natural that a mistranslation occurred. The thing is, it's a lot harder to close up a jar than it is a box.

     Boxes have nice, hinged lids, hasps, and even locks. They're made to protect and keep people out. But a jar, it's sealed with clay or lead. You almost have to break the thing to get at what's inside. It's not so much to protect as to indicate someone tampered with it. It's unmistakable. There's no lock to pick, and no hardware that makes it easy to close and re-latch. The thing is broken. So, really, it was an amazing feat when Pandora managed to keep hope from escaping.
     I looked back at the black, ceramic sphere on its beaten bronze stand. It absorbed light. Unnaturally. It was delicate, like fine china, and glazed. From the weight it wasn't solid, but not entirely hollow, either. There was something in it, and I very much doubted hope accompanied what was inside.