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Clean Slate |
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Published on January 13, 2016 |
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The Black Notebook |
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I open my eyes... |
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The room seems familiar. There is a flat panel TV set, a tower |
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fan, a bunch of notebooks of all sizes on a low table. Whoever |
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lives in this room, is also very fond of inks. I see a few |
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containers of them. Purple, blue, green, brown, orange... red. |
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The walls and the ceiling are decorated with Victorian designs, |
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which makes me wonder about how long has this house been |
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standing. |
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There are also a few heater outlets on the top of the walls, so |
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I guess the room is all not that cold during the winter season. |
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Considering how hot the weather has been during the past weeks, |
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I suppose these exhausts are mostly useless for the time being. |
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I just regained my consciousness and I sit down by the side of |
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the bed. |
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I am still waiting for the rightful owner of this room to come... |
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Should have been here by now. |
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There are some clothes on the bed. Seems they were going to be |
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put away but something happened and the tidyiness had to wait. |
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There are a few notebooks barely seen under the clothes, as well |
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as a laptop. |
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I take one of those in a casual way. The one with the black |
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cover. I browse through the pages, not searching for anything |
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specific. |
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It is filled with handwritten notes, formulas, journal entries, |
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and random thoughts. All classified by date and theme. There is |
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even an index at the beginning of it. Each entry is written with |
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a different ink. Sometimes even with a different font. This makes |
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every entry distinguishable at first glance. |
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I hear the door cracking open and I put away the notebook in |
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a haphazard way. |
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A man comes in. |
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"Just went for a walk. Get back to sleep." |
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It is someone who looks just like me... |
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