Spread these few leather notebooks on the table
Spread these few leather notebooks on the table, casually wrap the leather cord around a few times, and only then will a stack of white paper settle down. The black leather cover is cinched with fine marks, and the golden ring clasp bites into the pages, as if guarding the unwritten blankness for someone. The lighter one next to it, embossed with faint floral patterns, is as quiet as an unspoken word.
Flipping to the back of the notebook, a few small things are tucked inside. There's a guitar pick printed with "ALittleSoulParty" — the red-and-black textured one feels substantial in hand, and the other is amber-colored. Beside it hangs a gold chain with a few small beads and a tiny coral-like red piece. Below that, a heart-shaped pendant, white with gold edging — I hold it up to the light, take a look, and set it back down.
Some thoughts need to be properly tucked away before they dare to slowly unfold. Didn't write anything today — just arranged these little things back and forth, watching how they sit together.
