Jazmine Warling

The Little Black Book

THE LITTLE BLACK BOOK There it was. The little black book. It sat on the floor, in the middle of the room. Alone. The moonlight cast a spotlight on it, through the bare window, like it was waiting for it to take a bow. The breeze gave me a chill. Or, was it the ambiance of this lonely room? My eyes scanned this one-room house for a glimpse into its past. Mouse droppings littered the floor, giving the sense that I wasn’t alone. The front door hung loose off the hinges, like clothing on hangers at an annual rack sale. There was no furniture, but the wooden floor was scarred from furniture that may have been dragged across it at one time. It was obvious this place – somebody’s home – has been vacant for quite some time. Yet…this little black book was laying perfectly center in this little black room.