One groggy morning Jarl, a fine tuned man, woke up to the sound of steam engines and people chatter. He took small deliberately placed steps as he had for years, in the same New York apartment, alone. He had entered the restroom looking to wash up, all the usual. He used an electric toothbrush with a plain design: two-toned, red and blue. He used a simple bar soap that fitted his needs. The bathroom itself was quite small, located in the corner of his mildly sized apartment. But that morning didn’t feel like the others, something was off. Then he had noticed it. His notebook, his most prized possession gone. Bewildered and dumbfounded, he aimlessly scouted in his apartment, hoping to find out he had only misplaced it. However, not this time; it was definitely gone. The leather covered notebook that Jarl contained within his possession since he was a little boy gone in a flash. With no evidence to prove anything had happened to it Jarl’s mind began to race. His memories, dreams, and hopes were all contained in this dull looking notebook. He had many vivid drawings and much colorful language all around the pages. He had to get it back; he couldn’t let this go.

    Jarl lived in a low income New York apartment on the 12th floor, no one would or could care to visit him. He had no relatives nearby or any family members to communicate to, not like he had a phone anyway. A laborious job kept him busy yet inside his apartment. Enough income to pay the basics; the bills and food. In addition, he had saved quite a bit over the years as he wrote in his notebook before. Jarl usually stays inside, he never really had friends or talked to anyone. He just kept to himself and used his notebook to channel his thoughts and ideas. Yet now that has been lost; he paces up and down the short hallway waiting for a light bulb to just flash on. He accepts his fate, stares at the old, chipped door before him, doubting himself. As he has never had any person to person experience even as a child, this was a perplexing task for Jarl to do. He takes hold of the cold yet inviting bronze door knob and twist all the way to the right. The first winter breeze flies past his alleviated face. He loosens up when he takes his first step outside.

    Breathing in the New York air, choking on the pollution as it goes through his sleek throat. Slowly getting used to it, he takes a stroll looking at other citizens with a face of almost fear, but Jarl tries to keep his cool. Jarl doesn’t know where to go, he’s scared of asking for any sort of help; directions, locations, he has an absence of knowledge in the place he’s lived in for years. This is an unusual trait for the average member of society, however Jarl is quite the antithesis of such persons described. In his home. Wandering aimlessly through large packs of people. A face stood out at him, an old lady with a bluebonnet sitting by what seemed like an old block of cement. He put aside those thoughts and focussed on the reason he challenged his fear. He had such desire for regaining his beloved notebook back, but he was kept at a stalemate between going after his treasured notebook and staying behind in his secluded yet safe apartment, in fear of everyone around him.

    Jarl took a step forward, another step, another step. Each step deliberately placed and each step gaining more momentum. He didn’t go into a jog he stayed a fast walking pace, still unsure where he’ll end up, but Jarl knew he was getting somewhere. That little bit of progress and the self motivation knowing his notebook is out there somewhere. Jarl’s face, now red and perplexed. He still continued forward, though, nothing to deter him yet. In the buzzing, dark grey sidewalks of New York it was quite hard to locate anything except the tall skyscrapers glimmering and basking in the new day’s sunlight. He was distracted yet again, he just couldn’t keep his head straight on the task. But in that instant, when the sun shrouds all but his eyes, he sees something in the distance. The leather case of his notebook. He sprints at a grueling pace towards the cover; like he was running on air. When he finally reaches the point, he sees a notebook. On the cover it says: “The Lost Notebook.” Jarl uncovers that inside is all blank. But in somewhat of a book format. He engrossed in this new discovery and hurries back home to escape his fear and what seems like madness to him. It wasn’t his notebook, no, but it was something that called to Jarl.