The Notebook Guy Standing In Front Of House Novels & Stories

I look away from my screen. “Yes?” “Someone from Anastasia’s work came to see her.” “She’s at work, right? Why would someone come to see her at home?” I frown at the thought as Mrs. Smith gives me a one-shoulder shrug. “Hmm… okay. I’ll be right there.” Turning off the computer, I walk out into the living room. A tall blonde man is standing in front of one couch, with his back to me. “How can I help you?” He spins around and stops, eyeing me from top to bottom. He doesn’t take his hands out of his pockets or even bother to shake hands.

After all, everywhere is okay with him. Not so long after, they reached the study area on ​​the field. There are four tables under a big tree. He was about to sit down when he noticed a notebook under the table. A colored black notebook with a plastic cover. It was located in the middle of the table, that’s why it doesn’t get wet from the rain. He immediately took it and stared at it for a moment. He immediately saw the name on its cover. "Infinity Ramos." He read it. There is also a note there with a cellphone number. If it is lost and found, please contact her at that number.

The vision gets blurred than before as the black dot forms in front in the middle of his vision. "Me? How did I find you? What do you mean by that by standing in front of my door" the guy just smiles with a mysterious look in his eyes. "Isn't that you who found me?" turning his gaze away from Koishi who was trying to process what really is happening? The guy inside of the house placed the box of pizza upon the table beside the door turning his gaze back at the screen. Watching the empty street in front of him and the sound of the bike driving away.

I opened the message and arch my brows at his statement. UNKNOWN NUMBER: You left your notebook. I stared at the screen confused. Did I? I remember taking it with me when I left him at the rink to take pictures of the facility and even when I came back for one more round of question I remember putting it in my bag. Immediately I looked down toward my bag near the couch as I move to search it thoroughly but suprising the notebook I had tucked inside was no where to be found. Oh fuck! My notebook was missing, but how?

He said Friday. He comes Thursday. I know because at 6:47 PM my studio buzzer goes off and I’m still in my work clothes with mood boards spread across every surface and a pencil tucked behind my ear that I completely forgot about, and when I open the door Adrian Knight is standing there in his travel coat looking slightly rumpled in a way he never allows himself to look in public. He’s also holding a book. Not flowers. Not wine. A book. Large. Hardcover. Wrapped in brown paper with a small card tucked

I had my hand on the door when he spoke. "Mrs. Rowland." His voice was low. Different than it had been a minute ago. I turned around. He was still sitting on the bench, wasn't looking at me. He was looking at the floor. "Be careful," he said, "what you write down." The greenhouse went very quiet. My blood turned cold. He knew about the notebook. He knew.

Maisie nods and resumes driving, and God, don’t I feel trapped inside this car! Luckily, we quickly make it to Nathaniel’s not so humble house, and it looks as if the man lives inside his own forest outside the city, we have to drive for several minutes through the trees to reach the house’s building, which was indeed, fascinating. And right at the door, Nathaniel was standing, in his perfect grey suit, waiting for us with a small smile on his face, his green eyes fixed on me, making me feel so self-conscious. “Not even two seconds!” I hear Maisie in front of me, whispering her scoff, and I am sure it has something to do with how hot my face is feeling right now.

That was what I told myself as I stood and drew the blanket tighter around my shoulders like armor. His room door was open just enough to see him. He sat at the desk, the lamplight carving following into the angles of his sharp jaw. Phone still in hand, his attention narrowed to whoever was speaking on the other end. I hovered, my throat dry, before finally forcing sound out. “Mark… um… my notebook. I left it.” His eyes lifted slowly. They didn’t rush. They didn’t widen in surprise. They just moved over me, calmly, like he’d been expecting I’d find a reason to be there.

“Can I give him this?” She nods and steps aside. “I’ll go get coffee.” I walk down the hallway, legs shaking, fingers tight around the notebook. Erik’s sitting at the edge of the bed, hunched over with his laptop open but untouched. His hair is messy and there’s a shadow of stubble on his jaw. He looks like he hasn’t slept. I stop at the doorway. “Hi.” He looks up, startled. His eyes flick to the notebook in my hand, then back to the floor. “Kim…”

He does not look up. "A map." "A map of what?" He turns the notebook toward me. I look at it. The top half of the page has a rough sketch of what I recognise immediately as our apartment building, drawn in the flat two-dimensional way that small children draw buildings, with windows in rows and a door at the bottom and the roof squared off across the top. Around the building he has drawn a pavement, and along the pavement he has drawn a small figure. A man. Standing. The man is standing outside our building.