Wes Cunningham

Book

It was another hot and humid winter day in Los Angeles, My mother and I had resorted to buying storage units at auction in hopes of possibly pocketing a profit with the units unknown contents. This last storage unit we purchased was a hail mary, it needed to have at least twelve hundred dollars inside it to cover the rest of our rent and outstanding bills. After haggling with the auctioneer and other people we ended up purchasing the unit for two-hundred dollars more than we wanted but again we needed to make a profit and as soon as possible. The moment we purchased it, I stepped inside the compartment scanning its contents quickly as we still had to pay auctioneer at his office. As I scanned, I noticed a large amount of what seemed like office equipment, filing cabinets and what seemed like an American flag on a stand tucked away in a corner. In a sarcastic tone I proclaimed “what a great deal this was” and “to go get the paperwork to get this done as soon as possible.” As I followed the owner and my mother toward the exit, I noticed this old workbench with two cardboard boxes atop it as I passed it I saw what was an old black book about twice the size of todays smart phones. With out any real reason too other than that I like books to draw inside. I picked it up without looking at it as I thumbed the pages and felt the leather strap that bound it and put it in my back pocket on the way out.