"Paul, what do you want to eat tonight?" his mother asked.
But the child being asked had already walked over to the shop window on the street, pressing his entire body against the glass, completely captivated by the items inside.
It was a rather exquisite box.
His mother looked up at the shop's name; it turned out to be a boutique, and the box in the window was indeed made with meticulous craftsmanship. She couldn't help but take another look.
"Pa…Pa…Do…" the child was trying to read the name engraved on the pedestal at the base of the box—this decorative box's name.
"Pandora." At this, his mother bent down, resting against her child's back, and smiled, "Pandora—Pandora's box, Paul."
"Pandora's box?" The boy named Paul curiously tilted his head back, just happening to see his mother's chin.
His mother, in a solemn tone, said, "Pandora's box is a very dangerous box, filled with countless disasters and misfortunes. Once opened, not only will you be hurt, but others too!"
