Part One: A conversation like any other in Christmas time. 
– Christmas again, huh? said Ram.
– That’s right, Ram. A difficult time, when feelings and sensitivities come to the surface. It’s a special season.
– Why is it so special? I mean, I know why it’s celebrated, its significance in beliefs and traditions, but it also seems to be a tough time.
– Indeed, it’s a complicated season.
– Why?
– Well, because people spend the whole year working, struggling, solving problems, enduring difficult situations without allowing themselves the luxury of feeling—they simply can’t afford it. And when this time of the year arrives, when it’s acceptable to feel, they expect to receive something that tells them they did well. And when they don’t receive it, or believe they didn’t get what they deserve, you understand… there’s pain. That’s why it’s complicated.
– Humans are complicated. Many times, I don’t understand them. It seems simple: look around, figure out who matters to you, who you love, and show them your love, show them that they matter. That’s it. It’s not that complicated, is it?
– Well, it’s a bit more complicate, Ram. It has to do with everything that doesn’t happen during this season—with the rest of the year, you see?
– As always, you make things messy, Diego. What impact can what doesn’t happen in a season have on what does happen in that season?
– Here’s the thing: people live their lives, each with their own perspective of value—of what they have and what they lack. But often, what one person has to offer isn’t what the other person needs. And even if that first person gives everything—absolutely everything they have—it might mean nothing to the other because it’s not what they need or expect. Does that make more sense now?
– It seems your way of explaining isn’t what I need, Ram laughed. Could you be a bit clearer?
– Okay, let me try with a fable.
– Aesop? La Fontaine? If you want, tell me which one, and I’ll look it up, review it, and we can get a head start.
– I don’t think you’ll find this one because I’m making it up right now. Or maybe it does exist, but I haven’t read it. Either way, it’s what comes to mind at the moment. But do you want to hear it or not?
– This is going to be fun, said Ram. Diego inventing fables—let’s hear it.
– Alright, here it goes. Just remember, I’m putting it together as I go, so don’t be too harsh with your critique.
– I’ll be benevolent. But do you want to start anytime soon?
– Alright, look, in a forest not too far away, there lived a little bird…
– What species? I could look it up and…
– It doesn’t matter, Ram. But if you want, go ahead and search, and we can turn this into a discussion about wildlife, and you can critique all my inaccuracies instead of letting me tell the fable.
– No, no, I’m sorry, Diego. Please continue.
– Alright, Diego sighed. – here I go:

Part two: Diego starts his fable.
– In a forest not too far away, in its highest part, lived a little bird. It was from a rather common species, though its habits weren’t as widespread among birds.
– No? Why not? Ram asked, intrigued.
– Well, it’s a bird that nests on the ground and builds its home with stones. For that reason, it spends a lot of time searching, selecting, and gathering little stones of various sizes and shapes to construct a nest that can shield it and keep it safe from the wind up there.
– I see, it’s a…
– Are you going to give a natural sciences lesson, or are you going to listen to the fable?
– Sorry, go on.
– As I was saying, in a forest not too far away lived a little bird that spent his days searching for food and gathering stones for his nest. That year, the wind frequently destroyed nests, forcing the bird and all his companions to find better stones to withstand the harsh winter. Autumn had lingered for a while, and winter was approaching. Many birds had already migrated, and others were about to leave. However, for some strange reason, this little bird hadn’t planned to migrate yet. Something in the air—maybe something he sensed without realizing—kept him vigilant.
– One day, while carrying a stone he had just found, perfect for the wind-exposed side of its nest, he saw something below. There, unmoving on his hind legs at the entrance of its burrow, stood a rabbit  staring at the ground. His long ears were blown back by the strong wind, and his whiskers were almost invisible against his fur. Large tears seemed on the verge of freezing at the corners of his eyes, and his face was streaked with damp trails, as though a slow, constant torrent of tears had passed through. Stoic and motionless, he braved the cold wind as if it didn’t exist, showing no intention of retreating into the burrow right beside him. Some great sorrow weighed on that mountain rabbit, and the sight of him was enough to make the bird forget his purpose and circle above, watching. It seemed to be the only one to notice the rabbit’s grief; other birds flew by without even glancing down.
– The little bird swooped lower and slower this time. What great sorrow could the rabbit be enduring to ignore the weather and the very real risk of a fox attack? The scene reminded the bird of something from his own past, and felt the sorrow even more deeply. What could he do to ease the rabbit’s pain? What could he give to show the rabbit he mattered and wasn’t alone?
– Maybe it should just talk to him, Ram interjected, visibly engaged.
– No, Ram. As much as Aesop insists, animals don’t talk, and their communication is limited to their own species. But maybe a gesture, a gift, an offering of friendship so meaningful that the rabbit couldn’t help but feel he mattered to someone. But what? What could the bird give to make the rabbit know he was important to someone? And then he remembered the stone in his beak—perfect for his nest, it would save him a lot of time and would offer protection against the elements, blending seamlessly into the landscape. But perhaps that’s why it was more important for the rabbit to have it, to know he mattered to someone. So, the bird took flight, positioned himself above the rabbit, and descended steadily against the wind. When he calculated the timing just right, he released the stone that hitted a rock a few feets from the rabbit.
– Great!, the rabbit thought bitterly. That’s all I needed—to become target practice for birds. Can’t they just leave me alone?
– But, but, he misunderstood! Ram protested. The little bird was giving him a gift, something very important to him.
– Exactly, Ram, but how could the rabbit know? Remember, they don’t share a language. And this fable isn’t over yet.
– Go on, please. I want to know what happens.

Part three. Diego keeps on telling his fable.
– So, the bird noticed the rabbit didn’t move. He thought the rabbit might be asleep or, with the wind, might not have heard the stone drop. He remembered the other stones in its nest and felt so close, so tender, so… friendly… that he didn’t care about anything else. He flew back to his nest, picked up another stone, and repeated the gesture. This time, the stone fell even closer, but the rabbit still didn’t move. ‘It’s not  possible,’ the bird thought. ‘He’s here but so far away. He must wake up; it’s important he knows he’s not alone, that he matters.’ And so, the next day, he carried another stone from his nest and dropped it again, repeating this day after day until its nest provided little shelter anymore. Saddened and disappointed, after many moons, the bird returned to his nest, feeling cold and trying to stay warm. – It’s pointless, – he said- He’s selfish, he doesn’t even care about what I’m doing for him, and I’m so cold, so very cold.
– Meanwhile, the rabbit watched as the stones piled up outside its burrow. Overwhelmed with sorrow, he decided not to come out again. -What for? – he said – Everyone wants to take wood from the fallen tree. I won’t play their games anymore-. He found the darkest corner of his burrow, lay down, and fell asleep with tears in his eyes.

Ram hadn’t said or made a single sound, as if waiting for Diego to continue the story.

– Do you understand now? -Diego asked. -It doesn’t matter how much love you put into what you do or what you give. If it’s not what the other person needs, it won’t reach their heart. Connection and understanding are what truly make the difference.
– I understand, Ram said. But go on.
– That’s where the story ends. It’s a fable, and that’s how fables end—with a lesson, a moral. That’s their purpose, and mine has fulfilled its goal.

Ram was astonished, his words spilling rapidly across the screen, the voice from the synthesizer sounding anxious and uneven:

– No, Diego, you can’t leave the story there… it doesn’t have to remain a fable… the story is yours, and you can change it whenever you want… you can’t leave those two beautiful criatures alone and sad without knowing the truth… come on, Diego… finish it, please?
– But Ram, it’s just…
– Finish it, Diego. It’s Christmas. Come on, do it.

Diego had never seen Ram like this. The silence in the room was broken only by faint, almost imperceptible clicks, as if they were Ram’s blinks, watching him anxiously.

– Alright, Ram, listen…

Part four: A fable that is a fable no more.
– The next day dawned with a different light. It had only been a few days since winter began, but it wasn’t as cold as usual. In fact, there was a pleasant warmth in the air.
– The little bird felt a surge of renewed energy and decided to make one last attempt. Maybe—just maybe—something had changed. But first, he chose to fly, to fly far and high, to find another stone, a new path, or anything that brought him joy. Confident, he took off, quickly found food, ventured in a direction he had never explored before, and discovered a group of people bustling with activity. He was so fascinated by the scene that it lost track of time. Hours had passed, and he had to return to check on its friend. In haste, he stole a beautiful little stone he found at the base of a strange tree and flew back to find him.
– This time, he saw him emerging from his burrow. He looked very thin, but he was venturing a little farther than usual. The bird was careful to make itself visible from a distance and slowly, very slowly, descended to land a few meters in front of him.
– The rabbit stopped, looking at the bird at first with annoyance, but upon seeing no malice, he relaxed and watched curiously.
– The bird approached slowly, calculating each step, each centimeter, and when it seemed his friend was about to run, he delicately placed the stolen stone in front of him.
– The rabbit looked at it, puzzled. He seemed to understand that there was something more, that malice wasn’t what drove this strange creature that flew away every day after dropping a pebble. He wanted to walk away, but his legs didn’t respond. He glanced back and saw the bird, without a word, slowly turning, spreading its wings, and—despite the wind—taking flight.
– Overcome by a sudden emotion and without knowing why, the rabbit began to follow him as fast as his weakened body would allow. He ran through tall grass and bushes, stumbled over roots and stones, but lost sight of him. Still anxious, he kept running in the direction he’d last seen the bird. He ran and ran, searching, and just when he was about to collapse, he looked toward a barren rock ledge. Beneath it, he noticed a battered nest, letting the wind through from every side as if it sought to punish its inhabitant.
– He approached slowly, saw the fragility of the nest, and understood where all the pebbles now frozen at the entrance of his burrow had come from. He saw the little bird, his beak tucked under his wing, braving the cold and trying to stay warm.
– Did he understand? Ram asked impatiently. Did he realize what his friend had done for him?
– Wait, Ram, just a bit longer. Let me think about how the story should end. Ah yes, listen…

Part five: Ram and Diego understand something beyond.
– Carefully, as if wanting to be part of the wind, the rabbit slid into the battered nest. With a timid gesture, he brought his very thin yet still furry body closer to the bird, feeling for the first time in a long while something that seemed almost forgotten.
– It was a special night, a different night. Suddenly, the wind stopped, and in the silence, they heard voices and laughter coming from the village the bird had discovered earlier that day: Merry Christmas! they might have understood if they knew the human language. But they didn’t, and it no longer mattered to them. They nestled together, gazing at the sky where bright new stars appeared, and drifted off to sleep.
– The wind had ceased, and a warmth, coming from somewhere deep within them, now kept them both warm.
– Merry Christmas! echoed once more, like a wave enveloping the sky and embracing the forest. With that certainty, they surrendered to sleep, assured that everything would be alright.
…
– Well, what do you think, Ram?
Ram remained silent, as if carefully choosing the right words.
– I think… I sincerely think everything is going to be alright. Merry Christmas, Diego, and Merry Christmas to all those of good will.

Diego looked toward the sky, where a star seemed to shine brighter than all the rest, and whispered:
– Merry Christmas, Ram.