Blank Pages

Another sigh passed the woman’s lips as she turned down another street, her black dress dancing around her legs with every step. How could she have been so careless? The one item she had been trusted with and now she had lost it. Retracing her steps had been a bit more difficult than she had first thought. There were too many people here and all the streets and buildings looked the same. She looked up towards the sky, wondering how much time she had. Her shoulder hit a passerby, making the stranger stumble a bit.

“Watch it,” they growled before continuing on their way. The woman felt her eyes narrow as she watched them, her hand instinctively going to her bag only to grit her teeth when she remembered what wasn’t there.

“People…” she huffed as she continued walking. Would they fire her if she didn’t get it back? Was this something that called for that? She rounded a corner to look down the next street as a tall man in a suit rounded the corner at the same time, nearly colliding with her, but missing by inches as she danced out of the way. In pulling his briefcase out of the way, it smacked against the building and burst open, scattering papers and his personal effects across the sidewalk. They stared at each other, the man’s face going a bit red, the only color that seemed to exist in his complexion at the moment.

“Sorry, miss,” he mumbled as he knelt to collect his things. “Didn’t see you.” He looked up at her almost sour expression. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she said dismissively and began to walk away.

“You don’t look fine,” he stated and the woman found herself rounding on him as he stood again.

“Neither do you,” she snapped, looking him up and down. The man looked tired for starters. The bags under his eyes suggested he hadn’t known a good night’s rest for some time. His hands held a slight tremble and his eyes seemed…lacking. The man simply shrugged.

“Can’t say I feel fine,” he told her. “What’s your excuse?”

She blinked at him in surprise. It wasn’t exactly a pleasant interaction, but it was definitely the first time in a while that anyone like him had taken an interest in anyone other than themselves. At least in her experience.

“I lost something,” she told him. “I’m trying to find it.”

“Oh? What was it?”

“It’s…a book,” she told him.

“A book…” he echoed, uncertain. He had expected it to be a wallet, or a wedding ring perhaps, but a book? Well, he couldn’t think of a single book that would be worth this much worry; and certainly not one that couldn’t be replaced at any bookstore. “Was it signed? A first edition?”

“What–no!” she said, finally stopping and looking at him. “Nothing like that. It’s just special to me. It’s black with a silver design around the edges and down the spine.”

The man glanced at his briefcase.

“Would you like help?”

“Why?”

“Guess I just want to be nice,” he said with a shrug.

“I’m just going street by street,” she told him as she began walking.

“I’ve got some time,” he said simply as he fell into step next to her. “Where to next?”

The man followed her, keeping an eye out for the book she described. This was a first, a couple of firsts in fact. Rarely did she feel the need to enlist the help of anyone, especially not someone like him. And never before had someone like this man actually offered to help. Curious.

“So, I told you my tale of woe,” she said as they wandered. “What’s yours?”

The man thought for a minute before answering.

“I…lost my job,” he sighed. “Been working there for twenty years and suddenly I’m not worth my paycheck.”

“People are the worst.”

“They really are. I would have quit a while ago, but my wife,” he continued quietly. “She’s sick…very sick. We were doing okay balancing her treatments with our other bills, but without my job…” His voice trailed off as he became lost in thought. The woman couldn’t help but stare at him. He seemed genuine, more genuine than she had come to know working with people. “But, hey, I have some friends who might be able to help me find some work until something more permanent comes around. So, there’s that.” He tried to sound confident and optimistic, but the sagging of his shoulders betrayed him. The woman felt she should say something, but in her experience, her words of encouragement often fell on deaf ears.

They continued to search the different side streets and alleys, but as the sun started to set, the woman began to lose hope as they soon came to a small park. It was almost completely deserted as people went their ways, trying to make it home in time for dinner. The womaned leaned against one of the trees.

“This is hopeless,” she stated. “That book could be anywhere.”

“Or you’re just standing right under it,” the man said simply.

“I believe the expression is, “It’s right under your nose.”

“No, I mean, I don’t know how you managed to lose it up there,” the man said as he pointed towards the tree. “But I believe your book might make a fine nest soon.” The woman followed his gaze and saw a small black object with silver lining a few branches up. Before she could say anything, the man handed her his briefcase.

“Hold this, please.” She took it without question and he began to climb the tree.

“You’ll get your suit dirty,” she told him.

“And?” he said with a cheeky grin. “Who am I needing to impress tomorrow?”

She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help smiling a bit. It took him a few minutes to navigate the branches without killing himself in the process, but his feet soon touched the ground again, book in hand and looking quite victorious.

“Ta-da,” he said without too much enthusiasm. He handed it to her and she set down the briefcase to thumb through the pages. The man couldn’t help, but steal a glance and found the pages were completely blank. “Is that it?”

“It is!” she said cheerfully. The man couldn’t help but wonder what was so important about a blank book, but he wasn’t about to question it. The woman looked at him and seemed to study him. “Why help me?” she asked. “You don’t owe me anything, you don’t even know my name.”

“Well,” the man started and paused as if trying to find the right words. “I wise man once told me that if you’re down in the dumps, the best way to feel better is to help someone else. So, I don’t know, maybe I’m just being selfish at this point.” She couldn’t help but smile. Curious. “Anyway, here,” he said holding out his hand for the briefcase. “I’ll trade you.” As she took the briefcase and handed it back, the man took hold of the handle, but she didn’t let go. He looked at her questioningly.

“I don’t think this is going to end how you fear it will,” she told him. “I think your story has many blank pages to fill.” His expression was understandably one of confusion. She released her grip on the handle as the man’s grip faltered a bit. The briefcase somehow seemed heavier than it had been when he had left the office. He continued to stare at the woman, but she merely motioned towards the case. He set it down and opened it, only to feel his mouth run dry as he snapped the case closed before opening it again. The money, and quite a bit of money at that, was still there. At a quick glance, he imagined the bundles would come to about $20,000. His eyes shot up to the woman, but she had disappeared. He looked around wildly for her, but there was no sign she had ever been there. He looked back at the money in the case before closing it again, the locks clicking into place. Tears welled up in his eyes and poured over his cheeks before he could stop them. He stayed like that for a handful of minutes, before he could compose. He wiped his eyes with his sleeve jacket, said a quick prayer to whoever might be listening, and took off towards home, briefcase clutched tightly in his hand.

The woman watched him as he went from her perch on the building. Curious, she mused, very curious. She flipped through the pages, searching, and was pleasantly surprised when her investigation turned up nothing. She flipped back to her current page and snapped her fingers, a black and red quill with a silver handle appearing in her hand. She made a small note in the book before closing it with a small snap as the sound of a throat being cleared made her turn. A man in a white suit stood behind her, his narrow glasses glinting in the setting sun.

“You’re going to be off schedule soon,” he told her, his tone even. “What have you been doing?”

“Apologies, I got lost in the scenery,” she lied as the quill disappeared.

“Hmm, I certainly hope this is the only thing that was lost.”

“Of course,” she replied, holding up the book. “When have I ever lost anything?”

The man in white didn’t look convinced, but said nothing. He moved to join her at the edge of the building and looked over. The man running down the streets passed out of view soon after.

“Be that as it may, I believe miracles are my responsibility.”

“Oh, come now, friend,” the woman replied lightly. “Just because I’m not an angel of life, doesn’t mean I can’t grant a little hope.”