Sheryl Forsha

The black notebook

There it was. Next to me on the bus was a black notebook. It looked tattered and worn and seemed to be calling out to me to pick it up. I looked around at the other riders nearby. The woman across from me was on her phone. The young man two seats away wasn't interested in anything. I waited to see if he would take it as he exited the bus. There was an older man around my age who looked homeless. I felt his eyes on me. Surely it wasn't his. After all it was a Moleskine notebook. As my stop came up, I grabbed the notebook. I could barely wait to get home to see what was in the notebook. At my humble abode, I opened the notebook to find pages of what seemed like a diary. Daily accounts of someone living and walking around the city looking for people to help, from homeless men and runaway teens, to addicts and those who were mentally ill. I thought this person was an angel of some sort. I felt moved and inspired and wanted to get this notebook back to him. I could tell by the writing the owner was a man as he explained picking up another man to carry him to a nearby hospital. Suddenly, as I turned the page, there was a note, to me! "Go to the subway station and open locker 316."