The box cutter slipped —

The box cutter slipped —

not bad, just close enough

that I stood there a while

in the hallway not unpacking.

That's when the drawer came back.

The one under the counter,

batteries and takeout menus,

and somewhere in the back of it,

a knife with the handle

wrapped in black electrical tape.

I was eight, maybe. I picked it up

and the weight went into my hand

differently than weight usually did.

Not heavier.

More like it had already decided

what it was before I got to it.

The serrated edge caught the light

from under the cabinet.

I held it for a while.

I put it back carefully

instead of dropping it —

which is the thing I remember most.

The decision to be careful

with something I hadn't asked to find.