Anonymous
She finds it in the least expected place. Or maybe it’s the most. An innocuous small and hard surface under the wrought iron chair in a hole in the wall café. Her heel hits it as a particle from the caramel syrup in her latte passes unexpectedly through her lips. The sudden texture change startles her, her foot fidgets and instead of space, she meets solid matter. She looks under her seat to discover a brown leather-bound journal with bronze corner caps at the top and bottom of the book flaps. There is a stamped seal on the top left corner, a wolf’s head surrounded by ivy on both sides. It looks expensive and feels heavy, which is odd for a little notebook. She remembers that this table was empty when she came in, it always is at 10 pm on a school night. You would expect this café to be filled with hipsters and alt teenagers with its gothic architecture and mismatching flatware. But it seemed to be noticeable only to those who needed a break. Only to those who valued the calm silence displaced by ripples of quiet sips and the slightest clinking of silverware cutting into savory shepherd’s pie or a sweet muffin dancing through the air. She knows this table as her table, so it surprises her when she finds a little brown book under her chair. She places it on the table next to her black teacup with a golden rim that sat atop an antique-looking rose-designed saucer. The singular hooked clasp sits innocently, unguarded and stationary, waiting. She looks up and around to see if anyone also recognizes the peculiar item, only to realize she is alone except for the 2 baristas who are sitting in the corner, hunched over laptops and whispering about what seems to be statistics homework…ugh.
