“My mother gave this to me when I was little.I always kept it on my night table.After she died,I got sad.One day,as I lay in bed,I became so enraged that I smashed it.I felt terrible afterwards,but I didn’t tell anyone that. I merely cried,” Casimir told me. “Who put the peices back together?” I asked. “The staff told me that it was one of them.But I know that wasn’t the truth.It was my father,I know it.He put the peices back together.I saw him bring the rabbit figurine back into my room one night,all in one peice.He didn’t say anything about it.He just quietly placed it on my bedside table and left.That was that,” he replied.Now I knew why it meant so much to him.The next object was a photograph of a beautiful,jubilant bride and groom. “This is a picture of my mother and father,on their wedding day.Don’t they look so happy?They were, before they had an unhealthy premature baby. A.K.A. me.” he grumbled. “Casimir,” I said. I didn’t want him to think that way.