Lola had moved on to finish viewing the new museum wing. She had moved from one piece to the next, taking her time to study each one. She was now standing in front of a painting of a stuffed rabbit. It seemed. . .familiar. Lola couldn't quite put her finger on it at the moment. But she pushed that aside and looked at the scene. The rabbit was being created, sown together by a wrinkled hand with fingers too large to sow neatly. But the cloth that was being sown over the rabbit's chest folded open allowing you to see into the filling. Though Lola was not surprised to find it wasn't filled with stuffing, she was quite shocked when she found that inside the rabbit were, what looked like, souls. These souls were not wisps of white fluff and happiness, but dark tortured souls being trapped within the rabbit. They wanted to escape, but they could not. Some of them even looked like they were trying to keep the others from escaping, holding onto their heads and necks and wrists.<br/><br/>Lola hardly noticed that over a short while it was beginning to get less crowded. She only noticed that she was nearly alone when someone sneezed and she turned to look at them, but no one was there. She glanced at her watch, had she really spent that long in the museum? It wasn't closing time, but it had been longer than she wanted to spend. She glanced back up at the rabbit and looked closely at it. Something seemed different. As if one more stitch had been made.