Christmas soon rolled around, bringing more and more changes with it. It was new, all the patients being let out of their cells so that we can all exchange small handmade presents. If you were lucky you didn't get lumps of hair or fingernail peelings. What especially changed was the Howell, though, gave me a small, pathetic looking book. I frowned for a few seconds and stared into the eyes of a rabbit, one with a brown pelt with two button eyes and one shiny button nose, he was being carried into the garden by a small boy.

"Do you not like it?" asked Howell, who was reading a thicker copy of a book made by someone called Herman Melville, someone long gone at this point from how old the book looked like. My face scrunched up, but lightened as I peeked inside the book. There, once again, was a picture of the rabbit! They had trapped him inside a small box, though. I giggled slightly, realizing how alike we were; the rabbit and I that is. I looked up at Howell with shining  eyes.

"It's perfect," I whispered to him; "absolutely perfect!" This made my companion smile a bit, as he went back to the thick book in his hands. A chuckle escaped my lips, staring at my hands silently. I need to give my dear friend Howell something now! I thought, eyes wide. Im the worst friend on the entirety of the Earth. I continued to look at my hands, now in disgrace. What should I do? Theres no point in any of this anyways, its just gift giving; but he's done so much for me. A lingering feeling of doubt settled into my gut. I need to find the perfect gift.