2 Subject Notebook Wide Ruled Novels & Stories

Pls vote/comment/share. Xoxo PS. Don't mind the errors And the cringe-worthy note on the card.

Shelves lined with notebooks in every size, pens in neat rows, and blank journals stacked by the window. I moved to the notebooks and picked one up. "Too big," Duke said. I put it back. Found a smaller one—plain cover, nothing fancy, easy to carry in a pocket or a bag. I flipped it open. Blank pages, lined, the kind that didn't demand anything from you until you were ready. "That one," Duke said.

"... Ah. Maybe I haven't noticed your presence. I was really spaced out. Sorry." Mace just smiled at her sweetly and took out a black notebook. It has wide pages and it was designed for goths. The sheets were colored into black so it's kind of odd to write them down because the written phrases can't be seen in the eyes because of their pigment. It's like writing for nothing, but this kind of note can be helpful too. Writing down your secrets is possible and safe, the only way to read all the writings is to let luminous shine upon it.

I don't know how to do this differently. He held the notebook for a moment. It was thick now—nearly full, the pages soft from handling, the spine cracked in several places. He'd written in it almost every day, sometimes just a few lines, sometimes pages. It was the record of something he didn't have a name for yet. He put it in the duffel, where it would be safe.

The notebook had become a beacon, drawing in those who were seeking connection, understanding, or simply a place to leave their own mark. In response, Yam created a second notebook: “Replies for the Letters We Needed.” Franc, a fellow artist and friend, painted a cover that looked like two envelopes holding each other, symbolizing the exchange of thoughts and emotions. The rules were simple: respond with kindness, don’t fix—just reflect, and you don’t need names. Just intention.

Adding, “Or, if he has a printer, print the pages he wishes to examine first. You two can then learn more for the written exams, correct?" Alona gives him a notebook and the textbooks after agreeing. "I'll allow you half a day to complete going over those pages. Send it back this afternoon so you can have another one. Tonight, is the third one. To acquire the final note, you should come to my house.” She turns around and looks at Nesty. She gives more instructions.

It seems to be something quite important to her. “Yay! Here it is!!! I finally found it.” Anna took a notebook with a black cover. The outside was covered with a leather cloth, and although the edge of the cover was worn but visible, this notebook was very well preserved. Flipping the first few pages, Anna happily read the contents of the notebook written by hand. At a glance, all seemed to be formulas and some sample solutions for math. Anna put the old notebook on the table, took the pink paper that had been straightened, and read the topic on it again.

Mr Jones quipped. As soon as we took a seat, I opened my notebook and had my pen in hand, prepared to take notes. I use colour coding, highlighters, and other planning tools to keep my notebooks looking as presentable as possible. It makes studying a lot easier. “Class, as you know, your finals are coming soon,” Mr Jones declared. "In this exam, you will be tested on your knowledge and skills, so be ready. For the test, you will be working in pairs. Your partners will be the people seated next to you; don't even consider switching seats since I shall record your names,” Mr Jones explained.

She brought the same notebook. Not a new one — the original, the one with the three colour-coded tabs she had arrived with to the first appointment, the one she had used to record the measurements and the terminology and the date that Dr. Reiss had identified as the before. It was more worn now, the cover softened from months of being carried in the canvas bag, a fourth tab added at some point between then and now in a colour slightly different from the others because she had run out of the original kind.

Room 218 was empty except for one thing: a child's desk. Pink. Plastic. The kind with a lift-top lid and a compartment inside for pencils and secrets. I sat on the small chair. Knees up. Ridiculous. But I didn't move to the floor. The desk was the point. The size was the point. Opened the lid. Inside: a notebook. Spiral-bound. Hello Kitty on the cover. Faded. Taped at the corners where it had torn.