Catherine West

Little Black Book

The old man was always dressed in a black coat. The first time I remember seeing him he looked to me as a ninety year old thirteen year old. That was 20 years ago. His coat was truly oversized for him. He would walk the streets muttering and writing in his small book. This book was the color of his coat, and indistinguishable from his coat as he carried it. The only time you knew he had it was when he would open it and write.