Gut feelings

I found the box purely by chance; it was small and tightly bound with blue string. In black marker, on the lid, it had the owner's name printed: Paco. Just like that, no last name, no warning of "do not touch" or "fragile" or "hazardous material." Inside could have been anything, from dried butterflies, a dinosaur egg, the map of a mysterious island, or a dodo bird feather. However, it contained notebooks. Green and thin, the kind you could buy before in any stationery store and that no longer exist today. I also found two stones. One white and one black. He and I. Us. A signed card topped it all: "Friday: Do with them what you will." I share one of them with you. It's called "Corazonadas." It was written by my uncle Paco, the man who in many ways saved my life and managed to turn the ordinary into the extraordinary. If you liked "Persona normal," you will love the "Corazonadas" that Uncle Paco gives to Sebastián.