When I picked up the journal, I figured it was empty, and not a personal diary of sorts. So, when I shut it, I had only fleeting feelings of regret. It’s never right to read personal thoughts, even if they’re written down before you.

The journal was tucked inside the seat of the back booth, so I figured Madelyn simply had forgotten it. It wasn’t much, its spine was broken, its edges brand new, like it had barely been touched, their writing on more than one page, so I knew it was being used. I flip through it, coming back to behind the cover page. ‘if found, burn, do not return.’ It’s written, no explanation as to why. I take a huge breath in, and a feeling overcomes me like someone’s watching, and I think it’s this Madelyn like she’s been watching me the entire time, from somewhere I can’t see, making silly voices in her head about me. Coldness seeps in, chilling my bones, so I drink my coffee, pay, then hurry home, hoping I won’t feel as guilty or watched from the comfort of my own home.

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I’m home, undressed, comfortable, with a glass of red, its sweet aroma emanating from the glass in my hand, the dark red in contrast to the dark green journal in my other hand, waiting to be opened. I had made plans for dinner tonight but threw them out the second this journal walked inside my home with me. I had a date with this Madelyn person and her personal thoughts, she was quite the imaginative woman, and quite unnerving the way she rambled, but I was soon to be enamored with her so-called diary.

I hadn’t planned on what to do after, maybe throw it away, or burn it as the book said, or I could return it to the coffee shop, in hopes she would return for it, playing as I had never touched it, read it, or even brought it home for some sick date. I take another sip of my wine and eye the dark green cover, wondering what I would find inside, what secrets one person could hold.