Not Quite a Gift, But Close Enough

The cacophony of voices filled the room as families reunited for the first time in years. On a lone table by the corner of the reformatory, Peter stared at them with his hands balled into fists, contempt seething just below his skin. However, the flow of his emotions was broken when someone tapped him on the shoulder. Annoyed, he swatted the hand away and then immediately regretted it when he saw that it was an officer. “I’m sorry sir, I didn’t-” 

Peter stared blankly at the chicken leg in the man’s hand. A few seconds of awkward silence filled the space between them until the inmate realized it was being handed to him. He took it with a confused smile and watched as the officer strode back to the front desk, where he had been stealing glances at the kid for a while now before deciding to give him the leg. 

Back at the table, Peter took a bite out of the food, now with a somewhat warm feeling in his chest. Unheard beneath the laughter and the conversations of the crowd, he whispered, “Merry Christmas to you too, Sir.”