The Notebook

The outside is a dark ocean blue. It's plain, with nothing but an indent of a flower drawn on the side. I run my hand down the spine, millions of possibilities running through my head. The notebook is safe, I tell myself. I can write anything inside, and no one could see it. At the same time, I could share any of this with the world. I open it, and the smell of a bookstore is welcoming. I had never received a gift as special as this, and it was all mine.

A grin blooms over my face, and I know that I love this notebook.

HE bought it for me, I remember, and the whole thought of it makes me all buttery inside. It was HIM who walked through a store one day, saw the notebook, and thought of me.