Wolfgang winces, and their face colours. “Oh, sorry — I should have —” Warned him? Cleaned some of this up? Yes. They should have.
They look down at the box in their hand. The lid is off, and he can see that it's filled with sand, two seashells, a tiny bit of seaweed, and a tiny glass bottle with a cork stopper and a tiny piece of paper rolled up into it. It's very small; the whole thing fits in the palm of their hand.
Then again, they have enormous hands.
“Oh, here? No. Um — not all of it. Um, eh, I was making something. Um, that is, I had this idea, you know... eh, after the other day —” They mean Christmas, but are a little embarrassed to realise they're not sure how long ago that was or what day it is, and choose instead to skip over being more specific, “um, seeing from another person's perspectives. Then eh, I was on Tumblr —” Of course Wolfgang has a Tumblr. “You know, um... there's this company, uh — um, they make these things you put in a bath and it um, it turns the water these colours? Like it looks like galaxies and stuff, uh — I was thinking, um — I could do that. I mean, uh, not make bath salts. I mean um, the same idea. You know. Something, um, to relax people.”
They blink rapidly, as if they've just emerged from an underground lightless bunker for the first time. How long have they been sitting in this room, exactly? They look down at the object in their hand as if seeing it for the first time, blink again, then hold it up.