Sara Guest

One day an anonymous package showed up at my house. Inside was a curious object: a package of cocktail napkins bounded by red wax with a signature and date on the top napkin. A few days later, a text from Julie: did it arrive? It did! I replied. At first I wasn't sure if it had. But then I thought the object and the text had to be linked, because who else but Julie? I almost chided myself for not knowing the curious object had to be from her to begin with. Later she told me not to use it as napkins when my house was running low on napkins. Of course not, I said. I will cherish it.

It's kind of fragile but I pick it up and/or dust it every day anyway. Someday it will be the Velveteen Rabbit of napkin art. It's always so soft in my hand, like a book of deconstructed pages made of velvet. I'll always have it and it will always represent that quality of Julie's that was uncontainable and undefinable and that made her so lovable. A work of art made out of something ordinary that comes packaged in mystery and familiarity all wrapped up together.