The Christmas present ticked and would open soon. They've chosen one out of billions annually since the Code was deciphered because its power must be limited. They placed the box in my home on Christmas Eve, timer set for eight in the morning.
I'm waiting in the living room now, heart thundering, unknowable sciences about to bring you back. You'll be there, naked. Alive. Every memory retained. Even your death.
You'll ask about the car crash, the scars on my wrists, and I'll tell you the truth.
All that matters is that we'll be together again. My most precious gift.