Broken Notebook

Chapter 1: Bold

"Sometimes your life is defined by a single moment let it be today. Go boldly in the direction of your dreams" I read that quote everyday when I open my journal. It is meant to inspire me to write, but it only does the opposite.

Those words printed on the cover of my notebook only remind me that I am living a forgettable life. My life is the opposite of bold.

Dolan Springs, Pennsylvania represents my life fairly well. Worn down, boring, and small. I have lived here all of my life and I've grown to hate every aspect of its seemingly perfect exterior. Once you uncover Dolan Springs' core you realize this town is fake in every possible way. Everyone trying to be one another's friend even if it entails shoving the person you really are deep down within yourself.

I live on the corner of the busiest street in town. The speed limit is 40 mph, and in Dolan Springs we consider this highway speed. Somehow the sound of cars whizzing by relaxes my every nerve. It puts me to sleep every night and wakes me up every morning.

This morning was just like any other. I woke up to an annoyingly loud truck revving it's engine for no particular reason. It is the summer into my junior year of high school and everyday has been a repeat of the last. I feel like I'm in a never ending cycle.

Once I finally tear the warm and comfortable blanket off of myself I walk over to my dresser. In the very bottom drawer underneath all of my sheets and blankets, lays my only getaway from my boring life, my journal.

Today I felt exceptionally spontaneous and decided to write a new story in the coffee shop down the street for inspiration, and obviously caffeine. As I prepared to leave the comfort of my home I changed into my favorite pair of high waisted shorts and a plain black crop top.

People always tell me I have an old soul, my taste in clothing emphasizes this I imagine. It's not just the fashion that infatuates me though. I have always longed to know what a world with no social media would look like, with the only form of contact being actual conversation. I also have a record player which further reminds me I do not belong in this generation.

While shoving my notebook into my bag I yell down to my mother who is sitting in the kitchen drinking her coffee as she does every morning. "Mama, I'm going to the coffee house for a little bit." After a few seconds with no reply I steady myself down the stairs to find her in the usual spot next to the window.

She gives me a funny look before giving me a single nod notifying me that I could go.

"I'm trying something new." I explained to my mother already with one foot out the door. "Love you!" I add before I open the garage and climb into my moms Sudan.

After the short ride, I arrive at the neighborhood coffee house. The words written in big font on the front of the building literally spell The Coffee House. How much more unoriginal can this town get? Although the name is unpleasant, their coffee was amazing.

Inside, decorations are hung from the ceiling and plants are placed in the middle of every table. It's only 9 AM and this place is still filled with people. Some drinking their coffee alone working on their computers, and others are talking to their friends over a nice warm pot of espresso.

I place my bag on a seat in order to reserve the spot because by the looks of it, seats are being taken very quickly.

I walk to the line that has formed behind the cashier and I don't even need to look at the board because I already know what I want. While I'm patiently waiting to order I can't help but notice that someone is staring at me. I can feel it, but I look around and I don't see anyone until my eyes travel behind the countertop. His dark brown eyes were focused on me making me shift slightly under his gaze. A piece of his black styled hair hung down on his forehead and he was wearing an apron with a white t-shirt.

The second he realized I had caught him staring, he immediately went back to making the coffees.

"Next customer, please." I rush to the cashier and order my shot of espresso and return to my designated spot next to the window. I slightly adjust and find myself trying to meet the eyes of that boy behind the counter again, but he is busy making coffee for the bustling cafe.

While slightly sighing at our loss of eye contact, I shift through my bag trying to find my notebook. Expecting to easily take out my journal, my hand felt no rough spine or worn down cover, my bag was empty. I could physically feel my stomach drop. My notebook is missing someone has stolen it. Someone now knows all of my deepest desires. They know every part of me and they can use it against me.

I was still in the midst of having a panic attack when the boy with the deep brown eyes walked over to me. I was confused at first, but realized he had my coffee in his hand.

"Thank you." I said when he handed me the small cup. I tried my best to not look like I had just mentally broken down.

"Are you okay? I -um you look-" he started until I abruptly cut him off.

"I'm fine. Everything is great." I reply not trying to be sarcastic, but coming off that way. "Do you happen to have a lost and found at all?" I question eagerly.

He narrows his eyes at me questioningly. "We do, it's in the back I can check for you if you tell me what I'm looking for." He gently smiled at me while he spoke.

"Oh uh" I thought through whether or not I should tell this stranger I lost my notebook, it is after all the most private thing I own. I swallow my nervousness and reply "a notebook, it's brown and kind of scuffed up with a quote on the front."

"I'll be right back" he responded while walking towards the back of the building.

About 5 minutes have gone by and the boy was still not back. I was becoming worried and was about to lose it until out of the corner of my eye I spotted him walking my way. "Was it there?" I ask almost immediately.

"No, I couldn't find it" he looked sad that he had to break the news to me. "If I see it anywhere around here I will definitely let you know."

How would he let me know? He doesn't even know my name. Before my mind could process what I was doing I wrote down the 10 digit number that belonged to my cell phone on the napkin placed under my coffee. "Um, here is my number" my face was turning red, I have never done this before, but this is my journal at stake. "If you see it please, please let me know."

I could tell he heard the desperation in my voice as he reached for the napkin that I was handing him. He was trying to fight the growing smile on his face. "Will do, I'll keep my eyes peeled I can tell how important this is to you." He gently smiled while trying to comfort me.

I politely returned a smile as I got up off of the comfortable chair and collected my things to head back home.

"Wait" the stranger spoke right before I opened the door to the exit. "I never got your name." He smiled brightly at me this time, not trying to hide it at all.

"Kathleen" I replied while waiting for him to tell me his name, but he never did he just stared at me. "Um what's yours?" I awkwardly stammered.

"Joel" he answered before turning back to his work space. Joel I thought in my head, why does that name seem so familiar.