Alicia Millis

Notebook

Its supple, black leather had allure. The way it could feel like velvet and butter all at the same time. That luxurious sensation provided a lot of interaction for the small notebook. Its spine still stiff from disuse loved being stretched as someone’s thumb splayed its pages open, releasing the favourable aroma of new paper and old leather. While these caresses meant a great deal to the notebook, it craved words. It burned with a desire to be written in, to become soft in the spine, creased in the leather, and filled to the brim with ideas.