"Step into my office," he jokes with a sweep of his hand.

I follow him inside, but don't get far. His room is barely larger than a supply closet, perhaps even smaller than the patients' living quarters. On one side, there's a twin bed with storage space underneath. Parallel to it is a wooden desk as old and covered in chipping paint, similar to my own. There is a single bookshelf above the desk. Unlike the well lit row of LEDs that line the patient rooms' ceiling, Isaac's room is lit by a single lightbulb like the hallways are. Similar to the rest of the rooms though, is that there are no windows.

"Wow," is all I can muster. "It's really ... quaint?"

"Yeah," he sighs, hopping onto the bed. "It's really not that exciting. I think our dorms were bigger at ACE." He shuts the door by pushing it with his foot.

I sit on the desk, resting my feet on the seat of his probably broken swivel chair.