* | ISAAC.
THE PAPER IN HIS HAND is crumbled, torn in places, with blue ink smudged across water stains that’d been caused by a rainstorm he’d been caught in a few weeks previous. it looks like it belongs in the trash, yet it’s one of his most valuable possessions ; one of his only possessions. he’s kept it on his person for months, just in case. and the time has finally come for him to put it to use. he glances down at his own scrawl, trying to decipher the exact number -- it’d be embarrassing if he were to knock on the wrong door, though moreso for the poor victim of his yelled ‘ surprise ’ in an uncomfortably loud fashion. no, he’s sure this is the one, and he feels the flutterings of excitement begin to stir in the pit of his belly. it’s been far too long since they last spoke, and even longer since they were face to face. he doesn’t drag it out a moment longer, his calloused hand lifting to the wooden door as he raps his knuckles against it and steps back to wait for him to answer.
