One time, while searching in my grandparents' attic, I came across an old cardbox box in between the slope of the wooden ceiling and an old metal radiator. Wedged inside was a smaller box, containing hundreds of letters written in spidery script, and a number of objects wrapped in paper. These turned out to be starfish, and amazing specimens: fine brittle skeletons with a mosaic pattern of spines. Each one was unwrapped carefully, brought into the light, then placed back reverently in its wrapping.
My grandparents sold that house a couple of years ago to move closer to the rest of my family, and I've never known what happened to that box.
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