Simple Gifts

He walks through the forest. The trees are evergreens, pine and fir. The ground is covered by a blanket of snow that crunches and squeaks beneath his boots.

He pauses at a tree. He considers it, rubbing his chin. The growth has gone from stubble to an outright beard by now. Yesterday he tossed away a razor unused. What would be the point?

Still, this is the moment of decision. His trembling hand hovers over the gaily-wrapped packages. He chooses a long, thin one. A rifle? A signal flare?

The paper falls to the ground. He sags. A hockey stick.