He was an even sort of man, not an odd one. I had a puzzle to solve.
I hummed as I worked, and couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt like this—light, sparkly, quick.
I suspected that it might be what happiness felt like.
It was fascinating to see all the different names on the buzzers, and the manner in which they were displayed.
Some were scribbled in Biro on a sticker and placed carelessly over the button.
Others had typed their names in bold uppercase, printed it out and affixed it with three layers of Sellotape.
A few had left their buzzer blank, or failed to replace their name when the elements had made the ink run, rendering it illegible.
I really hoped he wasn’t one of those, but I kept a list of their locations in my notebook, just in case.
If I had eliminated all the legible names without coming across his,
I’d have to go back and work my way through the list of blank ones. Ah, but how could I have doubted him?
Halfway down the street, the most even of even numbers, there he was: Mr. J. Lomond Esq.
I stood before the buzzer, examining the letters. They were written neatly but artistically in classic black ink on thick white paper.
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