He’d spent all morning at the farmers' market, hunting down the rare heritage breeds. He had two pale blue shells from an Araucana, three deep chocolate-brown ones from a Marans, and a handful of speckled cream eggs that looked like tiny stars. They were beautiful, fragile, and currently rolling precariously in a flimsy paper bag. He needed a proper vessel.

Arthur grinned, tucking the rainbow eggs into their new, secure homes. "No," he whispered. "Just building a memory."

As the cashier scanned the stack of empty boxes, she raised an eyebrow. "Starting a farm, dear?"

Later that morning, when Sophie opened the plain gray box, her eyes went wide at the hidden treasure inside. The boring box had done its job—it had kept the magic safe until it was time to shine.

He moved past the standard "Jumbo Grade A" cartons. He needed something sturdy enough for a cross-town trek but plain enough not to give away the surprise. He finally found them in the corner of a hardware store: blank, recycled pulp cartons with no branding.