Little Black Book

Sean was always alone. He lived in an apartment complex where most of the residents were elderly. He was twenty-five and was afraid to go outside. The only time he went out was to go to work at the coffee show where he was the barista. No one he worked with tried talking with him anymore as they had learned he isn't one for human interaction. He would clock out and drive home, not stopping until he reached his destination. Sometimes he would see Mrs. Tina, an elderly woman who lived in his building, in the hallway. She is the only one he spared any words for.

"How was work today Sean?"

"It was fine."

"That's good. I baked some brownies today, would you like some brownies?"

"No, thanks."

"Oh, ok," she smiled, "goodnight, Sean."

"Goodnight, Mrs. Tina."

Mrs. Tina had no children of her own, so she thought of Sean as her long-lost grandson. Sean didn't mind as his grandmother had died a couple of years back. He spent his days watching Hell's Kitchen and wishing he was anyone else. Sean listened to Elliot Smith while lying on the floor pretending to be dead. How long would it take for someone to find him if he did die? He thought it would take at least a couple of weeks. His job would try calling him but would probably assume he had quit. Mrs. Tina would probably be the first to find him. He looked out of his only window into the parking lot of the complex. It had recently snowed, and the lot was full of slush. He despised the holiday season. All the people pretending to be happy, he couldn't stand it. He wished there was a holiday to celebrate loneliness. They should call it Sadness Day, or something like that. Halloween was ok, too.

Sean worked at the local coffee shop as a barista. He was 23 years old and hated his life. Day in and day out he served those coffee fiends while getting paid next to nothing. There was one silver lining, however. Now and then this beautiful girl would come in and drink coffee by herself at one of the tables. He couldn't take his eyes off of her. She always got a small black coffee with no sugar or cream and sat in the corner scribbling in her little black book. He wondered whether or not she ever wrote about him. He wondered if she even knew his name - if she even bothered to read his name tag.

It was the end of the night shift on a Friday, and the only people in the shop were Sean and one of his co-workers. Sean was about to clock out for the night when he noticed her little black book on the floor under the table. She must have forgotten it, he thought. He picked it up as he headed out for the night and decided he would return it to her personally tomorrow. His heart was racing as he drove out of the parking lot. He quickly glanced over at the little black book laying on the passenger's seat, stripes of yellow light glazing over it as he passed under streetlights. He parked in his spot and walked up the stairs of the complex. Quickly walking past Mrs. Tina, he fumbled with his keys holding the book under his jacket.

"How was work today, Sean?"

"It was fine."

"I made some…"

"No, thanks," he said, slamming the door and locking it immediately.

He threw his jacket on the chair by the door and sat down, placing the book on the table in front of him. He swallowed hard and put his hands up to his face. He suddenly got up and started pacing. Now that he stole from her, there was no way she would ever want to be with him. He had made a terrible mistake. Not like she would ever want to be with me anyway, he thought. She has no proof it was me; I could keep it a secret forever, and she would never need to know. He poured himself a glass of water and sat back down again. He took a long drink from the glass and wiped his mouth with his sweater sleeve while eyeing the little black book. At that moment, he could have left the book closed and returned it without anyone finding out what had happened. Nothing had changed. He decided he would try to get some sleep. He turned out all the lights and lay down. He couldn't sleep. The lonely nights were the only consistent thing in his life. The stars shone through his window reminding him of his irrelevance. The void inside him was the size of the milky way.

The journal he left on his table was the black hole that was slowly sucking him into its orbit. Finally, he got up and paced over to the book. He flipped open the cover gently. It said to return the book to Cathy Brown in case it was ever lost, and it even gave her address. He hadn't known her last name this whole time. She had always been just Cathy. He noticed he had been spelling it wrong on her drink this whole time. He spelled it like "Cathey." She never said anything. He fell asleep with it under his pillow, hoping he would dream of her.

The light from his window woke him. It was Saturday, and he didn't have work. He started thinking of a plan. He would go to the address listed in the book to return it to Cathy. He could say he found it lying somewhere. Then he would ask her if she wanted to go on a date. Yes, it was going to work out perfectly. He took a shower and put on his best non-work clothes. He even used a cologne sample from an old magazine.

The address listed in the book was about a twenty-five-minute drive from his place. The whole way over he was thinking about what he was going to say to her. The address belonged to a small house in the suburbs. He parked on the side of the road by the mailbox. He couldn't see through any of the windows as the blinds were closed. Taking a deep breath, he stepped out of his car. He knocked on the front door and braced himself. He stood there for what seemed like an eternity before he decided to knock again. This time he could hear movement inside the house. The door creaked open slightly.

"Hello?" asked the voice behind the door.

"Yes, hi, sorry to bother you," Sean cleared his throat, "I'm looking for Cathy Brown. I found her notebook."

There was an awkward pause.

"She doesn't live here anymore."

Sean's heart sank.

"Would you happen to know where she moved?"

"No, sorry."

Sean apologized for bothering them and made his way back to his car.

He didn't see Cathy for weeks after that, which was very unusual. Every day he would stare out the store window waiting for her, but she never came. One day he decided to search her name on Google to see if anything came up. What he found he couldn't believe. He read a report of a deadly car accident that occurred on the same night he found the little black book on the floor of the café. Even though she was gone forever, she was alive in these pages - and in that way, she was his.