It was small enough that her little fingers could close all the way around it.

There was something almost unbearably fitting about the size of it, this small red box in a small hand.

Everything Beatrice had given Chloe had been designed to make her feel small: the cheap candle among the expensive tablets, the diminishing words, the place card that reduced her to a category.

And here was Caleb, placing into that same small hand an object that was also small, but that contained something enormous.

He was not trying to make Chloe big by giving her something grand.