Evening, June 8th..

A simple box found its way to the doorstep of the bakery. It was rough, had barely been sanded and still smelled like fresh wood.

Inside, three items were carefully settled: a shimmering mythril dagger in its sheath, polished to gleaming perfection, a wrist band with a large, blood red jewel mounted against it, and finally, a leather cord strung through a white rose brooch making it into a bracelet.

Atop the box, a note was tied with a piece of twine string. It read:

Katt,

I want you to have these back. I don't feel right keeping them, or getting rid of them.