Leather Pocketbook Novels & Stories

The ragged, leather-bound corner looked promising. I pulled it free with the kind of care you give to bomb wires and sleeping snakes. It was a journal, a diary and a ledger combined in one scruffy volume. I flipped through it. The content wasn’t meant for bedtime stories. The leather was cracked, the spine well-loved, and the edges of the pages looked like they’d been thumbed through in drunken anger, and sometimes desperation. I sat down on the edge of the low, clubby-looking couch and opened it.

A genuine smile flashes on her face once again as she usher me to follow her to the next shelf just behind the sandals. “Here, Ma’am.” I thanks her and look around the shelf until I found a small white flap bag with a gold-tone strap. That automatically caught my attention so I pointed it immediately, so the lady grab it out from the shelf herself. “It’s made up of lambskin and these are gold-tone metal on its strap, Ma’am.”

"Yes, sir, is there a problem?" "Did she leave a bag?" "Oh, we have it, sir. I'll get it in a minute." Dominic didn't have to wait long. The bag was now in his hands. A box-shaped bag, made of leather and there was a long strap that functioned to be slung over the shoulder. When he saw the brand of the bag, Dominic was a little surprised. It's an expensive brand and clearly original. It seemed that the little girl was not an ordinary person.

Considering she kept the spare keys to her and Petra's room. "Hmm. Here." She passed a neatly folded turquoise tee to Gianna and was about to rearrange the books that weighed on her arm back into the backpack when she noticed something at the bottom. "What is this?" Mimie picked up the mysterious nut-brown leather case, curiously examining it. In as short a time as Mimie could blink, the case, books, and backpack were out of her reach. "A pencil case." "Never se-seen such before."

He produced it from the pocket of his leather jacket ten minutes ago while I was brushing my teeth. The leather is soft and black and thin enough to sit flat against my throat but thick enough that I can feel it with every swallow, and he buckled it with enough precision that told me he had been thinking about this specific accessory on this specific neck for longer than he might be willing to admit.

I pulled the cloth back. A leather document pouch. Ancient — darkened, cracked leather aged with time, secured with a tie that had been knotted so many times it became something fused to a singular solid strand. The kind of object that had been touched, held, concealed, moved — something that had journeyed. I sat with it in my lap for a long moment before I opened it.

“Fine, I’ll keep it. Thank you, Mr. Marcus. Truly.” “You don’t have to be so formal, Lia”, he said. He then motioned to the bag with his chin and smiled wider. “There’s more.” “More?” He nodded. I sighed and looked into the bag once more. There was a black gift box tied in a silk blue ribbon. I untied the ribbon and peeked inside. A small, leather-bound notebook greeted me, and my eyes widened in surprise. "Is this... a songbook?"

He looks caught for a second, and then he says, “I’ll find out. Keep looking.” I take out the rest of the yarn, and underneath, there’s a rectangular leather case, about the size of a laptop. It looks handmade, too. The stitchwork is very neat and even, but not perfectly uniform like you’d get from a machine. I unfold the case, already knowing what I’ll find, and I’m right. There are slots filled with every size needle and crochet hook you could want, as well as a pouch with a thimble, scissors, and a random assortment of safety pins, straight pins, buttons, and a few threaders for good measure.

‘Well,’ Gabriel said slowly, ‘we were going to give this to you for your birthday, but we also thought you might need it now…’ Theo whipped off the white sheet to show a model bodice figure holding and showing off the most beautiful fighting leathers I had ever seen. A black high-neck vest top with soft and breathable cotton, padded with a deep brown corset-style leather overlay to protect the torso with a low V-cut neckline to allow swift movement with no restriction, lined and netted with lace to ensure it would fit perfectly like a second skin; leather trousers matching the leather overlay, it looked like a unique fabric but leather-like. On the floor beside the model bodice were black le

Unobtrusive. She pulled it out and began packing with systematic precision. Two changes of clothes. Comfortable. Easy to move in. Underwear. Socks. A jacket that didn't look expensive but was warm. Toiletries in travel sizes. The small amount of cash she had saved from household allowances over the years, folded flat in a zippered compartment. Her passport, expired but still valid identification. The notebook. A phone charger—though she had no phone now, she would need it later.