Kotaku: I opened the box, and within it discovered a sheaf of love letters.
There I was, hunched in the corner of my attic storage space, the afternoon light taking on a voluminous, golden quality as it cast rays through ten years' worth of dust. The box had been pushed into a back corner, and it looked old, its hinges rusted and green-tinged. As I pried it open, the lock snapped like brittle glass, flakey bits of metal sticking to my skin. I pushed open the lid, and there they were: letters on letters, an era's worth of ink-stained adulation.