An Open Book

There was a little black book that lay unattended and alone beside Neal's usual bench.

“Odd place to see a book “, Neal thought to himself.

The stark black finish of its cover appeared to both absorb and reflect the entirety of the beam of sunlight which cast across it, as if to proclaim, "Here it is!" – immediately Neal realized that this was no ordinary book. As Neal got closer, he looked around for an owner, or caretaker, of this now seemingly discarded object of curiosity. The gravity of the book drew Neal to sit nearer to the book, but he had a certain discomfort wash over him as he now wanted to appear as if he did not notice the book at all. But Neal had certainly noticed this book and its sleek black contours and visibly alluring texture was glaring in the corner of his eye while he behaved as if he was only interested in methodically unpacking his usual meal. He devised that he was performing for an unknown observer when he mimicked "surprise" with his face as he overtly glanced at the book.

He even asked aloud "What is this?", but certainly not loud enough to attract any real attention – or even possibly alarm the owner who may have only absent-mindedly abandoned its contents.

Yes, its contents. For now, Neal could imagine nothing else but what he may discover upon opening this book. His eyes physically yearned as Neal's outstretched hand detoured from that day's meal over to the lonesome and awaiting book. A mix of relief and excitement flowed through Neal as he grasped the book. There was comfortable 'feel' to the book, his anticipation was now intimately tactile. Neal noticed the book had a weight and the edges of the covers were worn, but not tattered - as if it were well used and well-traveled - a patina of companionship.

"This is no ordinary book" Neal thought - and most likely someone else would think that as well.

The book had a character of its own and that was tangible to the point where some might call it exquisite while others might say it was classic; but it is best described as just simply "good". Its form was pleasant and felt natural in Neal's hand. Upon immediate inspection of the book's front and back cover, it was now apparent to Neal that this was not the type of book that held carefully constructed and contrived tales, fantasies, or celebratory anecdotes from an author, editor, and publisher. This book was clearly personal and intimate - it belonged to someone; it was a possession. This was a notebook, and it was the type of notebook that was used for whatever rhyme and reason suited the owner, and likely used without apprehension or apology.

"Delightful!" Neal exclaimed to himself as he realized a moment of curiosity was suddenly upon him.

Suddenly a voice interrupted - "What's that?" and the placid wall of curious anticipation that had surrounded Neal fell away to reveal the red-haired fair-skinned vessel of the brightest smile Neal had ever known.

She stood before Neal, seemingly cast from the bright sky above, perhaps riding a sun beam to light before him upon the ground. She stood casting neither a shadow nor a glare – or at least it seemed that way. Neal abruptly looked up from the rubble of his imagination - as if he were rising from dark cavern and adjusting his focus to the view before him. He quickly raised the book up in one hand and pointing emphatically with the other, he smiled and exclaimed - "This!".

Quickly came the unamused reply - "That?", as the now familiar face of Lena glanced at the book, then at Neal, and then with wide-eyes at the cups she held in her hands.

"Oh, let me help" Neal said as he reached forward with his free hand, sure to keep the book with his other.

Lena grinned and handed a cup to Neal while taking a seat squarely next to him - close enough to focus again on the book and close enough for Neal to take a particular notice.

Turning his attention back to the book, Neal explained "This book was sitting here, unattended, and I found it…found it just here…. sitting".

Lena smirked and reached for the book as if she were consoling a disbelief that such a thing would be "left behind".

Neal quickly withdrew the book from her grasp and Lena sternly replied, as if offended, "Really? it was just sitting there?" - her offense giving way to sarcasm.

Neal recognizing her tone likewise reaffirmed, " Yes, just sitting there. I suppose someone forgot it or perhaps left it behind".

Lena rested her posture back and attending to her cup slowly muttered, "Ok, then…so, now what?"

Neal answered, "Well, I have not even opened it yet, I suppose it might have a name or address - "

Lena interrupted "Wow, ya think?".

As Neal gave pause, Lena acted quickly to spring forward her hand and snatch the book from Neal's now relaxed grasp. She turned her body slightly as if to guard against retaliation but Neal, with a mild look of defeat, took a drink from his cup resigning to Lena's nature on the matter. Without hesitation, Lena immediately opened the cover and smirked before reading aloud - "If Lost Return To…"

“Well, go on” Neal coaxed.

But Lena said nothing more, instead she thumbed curiously through several of the pages until holding the book upside down, open, and shaking it is as if to magically produce its contents. “Nothing” she uttered.

“What do you mean, nothing”, Neal retorted, “That’s not possible” he continued in disbelief. This book was used and worn; it had the patina of life. Neal grabbed the book back from Lena’s now submissive grasp and thumbed the pages as if he we would produce a different result – but he did not. He looked at Lena with a confused expression; for he could not understand how his imagination could have been so terribly led astray by an empty book. Neal once again slowly thumbed through blank page after blank page, puzzled at how his imagination had suddenly disappointed him, only to sigh when reaching the blank back cover.

“What is that”, Lena interrupted as she pointed to the book’s inside back cover. There on the inside of the back cover was a pocket. Not the sort of pocket that was secret or hidden, but rather it was a simple unassuming built-in pocket that perhaps could hold receipts, cards, or whatever accessory might be necessary for such a book. And yes, this pocket held something – Neal glanced at Lena and then spread open the pocket. Inside was found four $5,000 dollar bills and a folded piece of paper that could have been torn from the book.

Neal spread the bills out before Lena and said “$20,000 used to be a lot of money”.

Lena quickly snatched the bills from Neal’s grasp and exclaimed “To some people, it still is a lot of money”.

Neal quickly turned his attention to the folded piece of paper. He unfolded the paper and saw handwriting, specifically a handwritten note. Turning the paper to read it, he muttered “handwriting? Haven’t seen that for some time”. After adjusting his eyewear, he began to read aloud from the paper “Additional reward and instructions may be claimed immediately upon return of this book to its rightful owner…”.

Lena perked her attention away from the money, which she was tucking into her pocket, toward Neal when she asked, “Rightful owner?”.

Neal turned the note toward Lena for her to read. She leaned in to focus and read aloud, “Personally present this note and book to _”. Lena stopped and her eyes shot to Neal who mirrored her look of amazement with one of skepticism.

“That can’t be real” Neal stated.

Lena wryly replied, “Or it could be”.

Neal continued, “It is highly unlikely that this book and this address are_”.

Lena interrupted force “Or it could be”.

A silence fell around Neal and Lena. The world moved around them with a different pace, focus, and feeling than they usually experienced in their lives. As they held each other’s gaze in a moment of time that was both eternal and fleeting in what was best described as a simultaneous realization of purpose.

As if rehearsed and on cue, they both smiled at each other and said, “Ok, let’s go”.