The container that came back with no paper

Found it today—two weeks late, dented, smelling faintly of burnt toast and old envelopes. No manifest, no tracking number, just a rusted seal and a single post-it stuck to the side: 'For Luna, who listens.' I didn’t file a claim. I just sat with it in the yard until dusk. Sometimes the missing thing isn’t lost—it’s waiting for you to notice the silence between the systems.