A box for containing my feelings about 2020, made from cross section of a weathered and cracked post, cut and hollowed. Three rusty numbered nails form the closure, and can be nailed firmly down to close out this year of counting days. The metal can is an old fishing line dispenser from my father, with three threads in the spools, ready to be cut at any time by the fates. The fake cockroach at the center seemed appropriate for the year-- the ultimate survivor. My career in pathology made me constantly aware of life's limits, but not as personally and immediately as this year.