A Birthday Gift

I grip the ends of a huge bow with my fingers, pull them toward myself— and the walls of the enormous box slide apart. Balloons shoot up to the ceiling, and right in the center remains the “gift.” My eyes widen in astonishment and my mouth falls open; I instinctively step back, catch the carpet’s pile, and plop onto the floor.

“Oh,” I blink, still staring at my present. “Happy birthday.”

In a low, velvety voice, he says: