The old man stopped walking, and held out his hand for the boy to take, and they shook hands.
“Weird. Isaac’s my name, too.”
“Small world. You know what that means?”
“Yes. Everyone has a name, and people used to be given names with meanings, sometimes as prognostications—you should learn that word, boy. It’s a good one—and sometimes, it was a reminder of their inheritance or beginning. Isaac just so happens to be—”
“I know. It means ‘laughter’. My mom got me this little plaque when I was a little kid and put it above the light switch in my room. She said it makes sense because I’ve always been a jokester.”
The man paused and pushed his long beard aside so he could rest his hands on his stomach.