Socks. That's really all I want this year.
But I want them. Not her. If they were to be hers, it would defeat the purpose. They could give her Copics, or a train, or a helicopter, but she wouldn't notice, because she doesn't exist. He does-not just he: me. I do. My name is Lukas.
I can't blame them for not knowing that. Not an ounce.
I keep fantasizing over that one present.. If they're for Lukas, well, I'd be the happiest boy in the world. Even if they are just socks, they would be Lukas's socks. And Lukas has never gotten a chance to celebrate Christmas, has never gotten a present.
It's just socks.
Right?