What a character holding a blue object is thinking right now:

Just one more box and I’m done. Why did I ever agree to clear out this rubbish? There’s nothing of value here. Just plastic cutlery, old electrical cords and coffee mugs. Hold on, what’s this? Looks like a wrapped present. Who could pack away a present without opening it? Oh wow, it’s a blue leather notebook, and a fountain pen. The leather is soft and buttery, and the fountain pen says Waterman. That’s quite a crack; I hope I didn’t break the spine. Neat, there’s an inscription inside the book:

For my son, I wanted you to have your very own notebook to write your poems in. Never stop writing, my dear one, the world is waiting for your beautiful words. Love, Mother.

Oh. Oh how sad. The unopened package makes sense now. The black and white photo she kept by her bed, of the handsome soldier in his brand new uniform. The letters, all addressed Dearest Mother, that filled one whole box.  The velvet box with two medals. He never got the chance to open his present. And she never gave up hope.

Next topic: Write a scene where the only spoken dialogue is “Uh-huh”, “Umm”, “Urrrr” and “Mm-mmm”.