An alarm was ringing. Clark fumbled his arm beyond the comfiness of his blanket, searching, seeking. There. He found his phone and pressed the button on its side, silencing the menace. He yawned and opened his green eyes, turning on the lamp on his bedside drawer, next to his phone. Eyes reflexively squeezed shut as they adapted to the light.

He opened his bedside drawer and pulled out a book. It was somewhat heavy, but not only in the physical sense. It was a dark grey, almost black leather hardcover, with no title or writing. Not that there'd be space for those, as the cover ornament took the entirety of it, with a mix of something between symbols, geometry and decorative embellishments. Those were all made of a silvery metal, that was embedded into the book's cover, barely protruding from the aged cover, filled with what looked like small scratches and scuff marks all over.

Fingers slid over the cover as he felt the metal ornaments, not being able to feel any of the scratches and scuff marks that his eyes could definitely tell were there, the metal and leather felt smooth and flawless. He opened the tome, revealing aged, slightly yellowed pages within.

He flipped to the chapter list, tracing it down with his finger in routine, quickly passing by a mix of chapters written in either black or red ink. Passing a red chapter, abruptly pausing and going back to it, eyes widening. 'Samuel Hill - ...' he read again. His brows furrowed and his lips pressed into a tight line. He let out a deep sigh, before he traced the rest of the chapters, found no new surprises and closed the tome with a snap, then got out of bed.

After he had got dressed in jeans and a deep red t-shirt, he headed to the bathroom. As he was staring at his reflection while brushing his teeth, he looked up before combing his brown hair with his fingers to get rid of bed hair, eyes unfocused, mind elsewhere.

When he left his bathroom, he walked to his dvd player at the end of the kitchen counter. He looked for and found the disc with Chopin's nocturnes, put the player on shuffle, chose nocturne 20 and pressed play. The melancholic piano started playing as he got to preparing breakfast.

As he finished eating and cleaning his dishes away, he took the prepared magazine with word puzzles from the counter before pausing and looking down at it in contemplation. He sighed, shoulders slumped slightly, he muttered, "Might as well take it..." He placed it in his black backpack with his tome, turned the dvd player off, got his earbuds in, choosing the playlist with Chopin's best from his phone, after putting his shoes on and wearing his backpack, he left his apartment.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

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As his bus slowed to his stop, he got up, and when the doors opened with a hiss, he got off, turning to his left and heading towards the old people's home. Absently looking to the trees as he walked. 'I noticed that they were getting greener on the bus trip. About time, it hasn't been cold for a while now.' He thought as he walked towards the building's entrance.

Passing a young woman in the doorway, he greeted her with a smile while holding the door open. "Good morning."

"Morning, thanks." she said as she hurriedly carried a cardboard box towards the elderly home's side building.

Gaze lingering on her for a moment as he walked inside, turning around after a step. 'Is she a new employee or volunteer? Haven't seen her before. Or it's a random relative, carrying a box to the other building mainly for employees... yeah right.'

Reaching into his backpack, he got the magazine, then left the entrance and walked towards the reception desk with a small smile and a wave with the magazine. "Morning Claire!"

She looked up and a small smile appeared in recognition of the voice and the face, but it wavers as she looks at him, then turns into a small frown as she notices the magazine. "Morning Clark. I'm sorry, I have bad news." She slowly says.

He slowed down his steps with a slightly confused expression, "Sorry?"

"Mr. Hill passed away last night." She said as her eyes moved back to the magazine in his hand, then back to him.

He stopped walking. His eyes widened before he looked down at the magazine in his hand. "Oh.", he says softly, "I see."

Claire looked at him with a tinge of sadness, "It might be better to take the day off today. We always appreciate you volunteering, but you need to take care of yourself too. You and Sam had gotten quite close."

Nodding slowly, he answered after a moment, "Maybe I should." His gaze turned to meet hers, "Thank you. See you the day after tomorrow, then." he mumbled, then turned and walked back towards the entrance.

His lower back felt like the book in his backpack was trying to burn a hole through it. He knew he was imagining it.