The Notebook Rating の小説・ストーリー

I ask warily when she stares at me wide-eyed "The Notebook is my favourite film." She tells me, and I frown a little, watching her. "Isn't it like every girl's favourite film?" I state, and she blinks a couple of times and sinks back in her seat, a little deflated. Oh, did she think I remembered and brought her because of that reason? Did I remember? I don't think I did. "Yeah, it probably is." She forces a smile and jumps when a scrawny boy pokes his head through her window, asking for the tickets. I chuckle and hand them over to him, and he smiles sheepishly.

Is this destiny Or will this be another painful lesson for the both of us? A closure maybe before we say our farewell? Or… to continue the love we cut off due to the world’s protest? I chose The Notebook movie on N*****x. It was popular and also old, but I had not seen this movie when I was still in high school. Released when I was still young, but because I was not into movies before and more into books, maybe I did not mind recognizing this movie.

"It's fine. Open it and see. It's nothing expensive. I just think it's important—very important—to both of us." Calla opened the box hesitantly. As expected, there was no jewelry or watch—nothing valuable—inside. It was a small notebook. She held the notebook with trembling hands and slowly opened it. The pages were filled with neatly written words that repeated over and over again—'It's okay'. Page after page, it was the same words. The entire notebook was filled with them. The handwriting was not only neat, almost like it had been printed, but even the spacing was perfectly consistent. It was hard to believe this had been written by hand.

Sebastian's silence was answer enough. Mama Montgomery stood up, brushed off her pants, and walked to the bedroom. She emerged thirty seconds later holding a black notebook—worn at the edges, held together with a rubber band. She handed it to Damian like she was handing him a sacred relic. "Page twenty-three is my favorite," she said. "You have his eyes exactly right." "Mom, please—" "I'm going to make tea." She walked into the kitchen, humming. Damian looked at the notebook in his hands. It was heavier than it looked. The rubber band was cracked with age. The cover was soft, worn smooth by what must have been years of handling.

The day was unveiling smoothly, and Charlotte enjoyed it to the fullest, having abandoned all her worries aside to enjoy his company. When dusk approached, they headed to the cinema to catch the evening screening of The Notebook which was showing in all theatres that weekend. The choice of the movie had been Charlotte’s idea as she enjoyed all the sappy and romantic things that the world had to offer. Terrence obliged without a fight as it was not the first time that he had to watch her cry over fictional characters. The hours went by quickly and soon, the movie credits were showing on the screen as the cinema lights went on. Charlotte had carried pocket tissues in her purse which were now a

And still I barely look passable when he looked like that. Not. Fair. "Well." I stirred the mug, diverting my gaze to the view in front again. "It didn't take you long after Taylor put that stupid movie." Rubbing his eyes, Nate gave me a taunting smirk. "Aren't you girls supposed to love the Notebook?" I snorted. "Once you've seen it every Friday for the last couple years you kinda grow tired of it." "Damn." "Yep. We even have noted down which minutes are the ones that broke her apart, so we had the paper towels ready."

Opened the notebook. Kept going.

I went downstairs and greeted him. "So what are we watching tonight?" I asked him. "I found this really old movie in the library. It's called the notebook. It's a 1940s movie" he told me showing me the cover. It looked like a romance movie. 1940s,that was really old. I wonder how some of the really old stuff survived.

A tiny smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You are unbelievable.” “So I’ve been told.” I rolled my eyes so hard they almost qualified as cardio. “Give it back.” “What do I get?” “My eternal gratitude.” “Boring.” “My notes?” “I can read those anyway.” “Kai.” “Wren.” “You’re impossible.” “And yet…” He finally placed the notebook into my waiting hand, letting his fingertips brush mine for the briefest second. Barely a touch. Hardly anything. Yet my pulse still skipped.

And there he was again. The same face. The same observer. The same silent presence. Richard frowned. "Do you recognize him?" Elena shook her head. "No." But Victor clearly had. Which meant the notebook mattered. She reached for it. The cover was worn. The pages filled with notes. Dates. Locations. Names. Observations. Nothing organized enough to function as evidence. Everything organized enough to function as a map. She turned pages slowly. Several entries referenced meetings. Others referenced companies. A few contained handwritten warnings.