Your feet feel like wet bricks. Your pace is slow underneath the wicked heat and scorching beams of a relentless midday sun. You squint forward, your pupils shriveling to the size of pinpoints as you stare across the harsh glare of the concrete before a sudden break in the light stops you. You stare down, laying at your feet an 8.5" by 11" college ruled wide black notebook. It lays there in the heat like a dying gazelle, bleeding its ink through the pages. Its splayed open slightly, some of the pages curling underneath it and rustling in a dry humid wind. You bend over, its mere presence intriguing and of high confusing interest. Your hands curl around the slightly bent out of shape binding as you pull it up to your face, squinting across the blank cover. After opening it, you discover written across the inside cover in wide thick black permanent marker strokes is the following.

PLease Return:
Tellermyer Oldrich
(983)865-5563 cell
8356 Elmwood Drive, Hathian, LA 89956

Your hand then placidly strokes the first page, your fingers running across the sheet as if you could just plunge your hand into and through the book if you wanted. The name sounds oddly familiar as it runs across your mind, and perhaps even for a brief moment a hazy or clear image of a woman with blonde hair streaks across your memory. Hesitation strikes quick, obviously this wasn't yours. Should you return it? Should you read it and return it? Or maybe, just keep it for yourself? You can't help a glance as your eyes tear across the first page, not reading but mindlessly confirming the presence of words. A slightly tidy scrawl greets your eyes, the words and letters in neat tightly formed lines that every once in a while stray across the margin. Your eyes flick back and forth as you begin to read...

((What now follows is what was written... Journal style. And yes, I know my title makes people interested.))