[ on the morning of the 27th, keats will find a bag with his name on it waiting for him. inside he'll find a small wooden ball (so small it can easily fit into a hand) with a metal key sticking out of it. painstakingly carved into its side is keats's name in a neat script, matching the note that comes with it: ]
DearestDear To: Mr. Keats,
I know I'm probably the last person you want to hear from right now, and I understand completely! I hope you'll still accept this gift, though... Someone told me that Christmas was about appreciating those that are precious to you. And when I heard this melody, I couldn't help but think of you.
package | delivered on december 27 because please forgive orz
or, you know. something like it. shakes fist at fourthwalling.]