Seyanna Preston

The black book

Slowly walking through the small antique shop that had once belonged to my now deceased father, I stop when I see a small black book with what seems to be golden pages. I reach forward, intrigued by this little book. Slowly brushing my fingers against the cover I smile slightly. I feel drawn to it. Like I need to protect this book from all peering eyes. With in a few quick second, I take it and stash it away in my pocket before pretending as if nothing happened. Heading back to the counter I see my mother. Just like myself, my mother looks at me with her electric blue eyes and stark white hair as I strode over to the front counter.