I like to think that the reason that the wrapping paper on the cassette tape that Peter’s mom gave him was so worn out was because Peter sat on the Milano during late nights when he was just drifting through space, running his thumbs over the wrapping paper, trying to decide if he should open it or not. Remembering that he didn’t grab his mother’s hand, and watching as she flatlined right in front of him and he was powerless. His mother’s last words ringing in his ears. And then he reads the letter over and over, still unsure of whether or not to open the present.