Leather Pocketbook Novels & Stories

She set one of the shopping bags aside and grouped the others together. Quentin picked up the bag she had set aside and took a look. The bag held a sleek, dark brown leather wallet designed for men.

I stood up, my gaze drifting down to admire the way the heels elongated my legs, creating a stunning line from hip to toe. Next, I reached for my small, sleek clutch bag, its black leather exterior gleaming in the soft light. I opened the delicate silver clasp and slipped my phone, lip balm, and credit cards inside. The clutch was just large enough to hold the essentials, its compact size perfect for a night out.

She said nonchalantly. She pulled out something from her right. It was a small brown leather bag. She handed it to me with one hand while the other held on to her tea. I took the bag from her and looked at her skeptically. Slowly, I opened the bag and slipped my hand into it. It came back out with a book. It was old and the cover was made of leather as well.

Then, in the third drawer, I saw scarves, sunglasses, and a leather journal. My fingers trembled as I opened it. Briar's handwriting covered the first few pages. Shopping lists. Appointment reminders. I shoved the journal back, not bothering to position it exactly right. The closet was next. I pulled clothes aside and checked the pockets. A gas receipt. Gum wrappers. Seventy-three cents in change. Behind the hanging dresses, shoe boxes were stacked three high. I pulled them down one by one. Jimmy Choo's and Louboutin. The third box was brown and generic with no label. I opened it. It was a box of tampons.

Annalise said feeling wronged that Leo is not ready to believe her. She hastily opened a gift box and pulled out a limited edition handbag which was released just a few days ago. The female employees who recognized the brand gasped with awe. This bag is worth a million dollars. Its pure snake leather. Esme didn't look impressed. While Leo was closely observing her reaction. He smirked at her lack of excitement which he noticed in more than a dozen female employees around them. "I bought this for Esme" Annalise showed the bag proudly.

My fingers brushed the cool skin of her neck as I clicked the clasp shut. "Beautiful," the shopkeeper murmured. "It’s perfect," Alessia whispered, looking at me through the glass. "Now, grab the boxes. We're going to the next one." I snatched the velvet jewelry boxes, shoving them into one of the already overflowing bags. I followed her out onto the sun-drenched street. She veered into a local leather workshop, "Three of these," she said, pointing to handmade leather totes, "And those boots. The ones with the gold buckles."

She slid open the glass door and went into the clothes and accessories room facing different sections of the room with Bran’s wears, Sophia’s wears, another section for Bran’s shoes and Sophia’s shoes, and another section for Sophia’s handbags. Then a glass drawer-like compartment filled with Bran’s wristwatches, rings and neckties, then another section in the compartment was filled with Sophia’s jewelries, wristwatches and silk scarves. She carefully skimmed through the section for the clothes as she hoped to find something and at that moment, she found a brown leather laptop bag. Henna pulled it out and placed it on the compartment for jewelries as a platform to open the bag up and then sh

Inside was a small leather bag, black, sturdy, and clearly hand-stitched with a silver moon symbol on the flap. I gasped. “Eri…. this is beautiful.” “It has hidden pockets,” she said proudly. “To keep your things safe. You can use it to carry herbs or anything else you might need. It’s also light enough to hide under your uniform jacket and cap.” I hugged it close. “Thank you. I love it.” She smiled, finally happy again. “I wanted to give you something useful, not just pretty.” “This is perfect,” I said honestly. “Everything about it.”

It drives me mad. I close the book. I hold it in my hands. It feels heavy. Heavier than a notebook should be. I turn it over. I look at the spine. It is old leather, cracked and peeling. But it is thick. Stiff. I press my thumb into the leather. It doesn't give. Books have hollows in the spine to let the pages turn. This one feels solid. I reach into my pocket. I pull out a small sewing kit I stole from the laundry room. I take out the seam ripper.

Miko looked intently at the messenger bag right in front of her face. Or, perhaps, it was more accurate to say she was right up on the bag itself. She was so close that she could see just how fine the stitching was along the seams. She drew back as she picked up from the rack in front of her, and slowly ran her open hand across its surface. It was mildly stippled leather, and dyed a deep blue, as though it belonged in the ocean.