He’d spent all morning at the farmers' market, hunting down the rare heritage breeds. He had two pale blue shells from an Araucana, three deep chocolate-brown ones from a Marans, and a handful of speckled cream eggs that looked like tiny stars. They were beautiful, fragile, and currently rolling precariously in a flimsy paper bag. He needed a proper vessel.
He moved past the standard "Jumbo Grade A" cartons. He needed something sturdy enough for a cross-town trek but plain enough not to give away the surprise. He finally found them in the corner of a hardware store: blank, recycled pulp cartons with no branding. egg boxes to buy
Arthur stood in the dairy aisle, staring at a wall of cardboard and plastic. To anyone else, they were just egg boxes. To Arthur, they were the final piece of the "Great Breakfast Heist." He’d spent all morning at the farmers' market,
Arthur grinned, tucking the rainbow eggs into their new, secure homes. "No," he whispered. "Just building a memory." He needed a proper vessel
As the cashier scanned the stack of empty boxes, she raised an eyebrow. "Starting a farm, dear?"