Norman Leaves the Normal

Norman Bottle was a normal man. He led a normal life, had a normal job, and ate normal food. He was once part of his father’s Bottling company. Bottle’s and More, was his dads’ pride and joy, that was until the market crash of 2008. All the shareholders and investors withdrew, and the company crashed. He didn’t like the company anyways; it was to exotic in his eyes.

Every day at 7:30am Norman would wake up and eat his buttered toast, drink his black coffee, and get dressed. He would catch the bus at 8:15 that would take him three blocks down Alberta street, to start his job at 9:00 o’clock. He hated it, it was boring and uneventful. Every single day he would spend 8 hours crunching numbers and calling clients to remind them that their car’s extended warranty was up. Half the time they didn’t answer, and the other half of the time he would get angry people. Certainly, his lunch breaks were more exciting. Unfortunately for Norman, it was even worse. Ham and Cheese with a bottle of water. He hated bottles, they reminded him of his father’s failed company. There was one thing that Norman did enjoy, and that was passing the bookstore that was in the same complex as his work building. It was dreadfully small and was covered in dust. It was the sort of bookstore you would see in movies, with an old man or woman walking around bent over, with thick glasses magnifying their eyes like some sort of insect. Stacks of literature towered like the skyscrapers outside, tattered pages randomly blew across the floor from an old creaky fan from the 60’s. Rarely were there any new books arriving as they were mostly used and looked like antiques. It felt comfortable to Norman, and sometimes he would go in and read the book titles, never talking to anyone of course. That would be abnormal for him. Occasionally he would buy a book and read. Imagining he was the characters in the story living an exciting life, instead of a normal one. Today was different though. Norman passed buy and stopped, a big sign was stuck in one of the windows with the image of several books, they looked like journals. It read, “Your adventure begins here, open the pages and see where you end up!” Norman stood staring at the sign for a minute. He had never owned a journal before, and what did it mean “Your adventure begins here?” He wanted something more, something with substance, but he didn’t want to be abnormal. He took a few steps away from the store about to leave and stopped. He could hear the car horns outside, and the busses. His back was to the store and he the sounds began fading, his heart was racing. “Buying a journal is not something I’ve done, could I really find adventure?” He kept repeating this in his head over and over. Thump thump. Thump thump. His heart was throbbing. Norman squeezed his eyes shut hard, breathing in deep and holding his breath. Three seconds passed, then ten, then fifteen. A bead of sweat ran down his brow and fell onto the floor and landed with a tiny splatter on the concrete. His knuckles turned white as he clenched his fists hard, fingernails digging into the skin. Exhaling, Norman spun around in his shoes and walked towards the door, legs shaking. The doorknob twisted, and the door creaked as he entered. It seemed like the entire world was staring at him, yet nobody was around. He walked to the little stand of journals where another sign read, “Moleskine. The first step in a grand adventure”. There were four colors: maroon, yellow, green, brown, and a simple black. The little black book seemed the most normal to Norman, so he grabbed that one. He jumped at the texture. It was a soft leather, and it had a patterning that was raised ever so slightly. He felt it on his skin, opened it and looked inside. It was empty.

The ceiling fan made choppy shadows as it slowly twisted overhead. Norman stared at the creamy blank pages breathing heavily. What was he doing? Was he really going to buy this? Can he justify it? Would it get used? His eyes darted back up at the sign, “Moleskine. One page away from infinity”. He froze. The sign did not say that earlier. Eyes fixed on the sign Norman backed away slowly, towards the desk. An elderly woman was hunched over, maybe in her mid 80’s, watching him through her giant glasses. He placed the Moleskine on the desk, and she scanned the back. “Hello, a journal this time huh? I hear they can be very magical in the hands of the right person”, she chuckled at him. Norman gulped swiping his debit card and nodding. “Anyways, thanks for your purchase as always, and I hope you enjoy the adventure you are about to go on.” She waived her hand at the door. The crocheted shawl that she was wearing had little red hanging tassels that moved with her arm. Norman nodded again slinking away from the desk clutching the little black book in his hand. He felt something. Something he had never felt before. Was it anticipation? Fear? No, he had felt those. Excitement maybe? Yes, there was some excitement but that wasn’t it. He wrestled with this feeling, as every time he looked at the book in his hand, a fresh wave of it engulfed him. He got on the bus and sat down. There was a buzzing sound. Normans watch was alerting him that it was time to eat. The whole ordeal had taken an additional 30 minutes, but it felt like several hours to him. Various smells and voices entered the bus as it bumped along the road, it stopped, went again, stopped, and went again. Norman stared at his book. He saw something slide down by his feet. It was a crumpled paper. Normally, he would leave it on the ground. The floor of a bus houses all sorts of disgusting things. Today wasn’t like any other day though, he bought a Moleskine, and somehow adventure awaited him. So, he reached down and picked it up. It felt like cardboard, and upon opening it Norman realized it was a lottery ticket. He stopped breathing for a moment, did he just find someone’s winning lottery ticket? “Grand prize $20,000” His eyes scanned the ticket in anguish as the ticket was a dud. The bus stopped and the driver looked up at him, he knew it was Norman’s stop. Norman got up, dropping the ticket in the trash and walked with his journal to his apartment.

Rain streaked down the windows of Norman’s apartment windows. He sat at the table with his frozen dinner with a game show on the television. It was muted. The only noise was the pitter patter of the rain, and the ticking of the wall clock hanging above the sink. The moleskine lay open, invitingly. Its white pages contrasted beautifully against the dark room, and almost seemed to glow from the TV light. There was a ballpoint pen on the table from balancing the checkbook. Norman wondered if he was the only one did that still. Pushing the empty food tray aside, he reached for the pen and journal. Click. He was ready to write something. What did he want to write though? The clock and rain continued to echo into the studio room. The first page of the journal lay opened as an empty canvas. Normal pressed the tip of the pen to the paper and wrote, “My adventure began when I bought a black moleskine journal.” Suddenly there was a sharp tapping on his door. Norman slammed the book closed as if he has committed some sort of transgression. He couldn’t see anyone in the peephole, but he opened the door anyways. In front of him, sitting on his welcome floor mat, was a large manilla envelope. He grabbed it turning it over curiously. It seemed like a normal envelope, but it had something stuffed into it, and it was so full that the sender had to tape it closed. Norman brought it in and sat back at the table. The door clicked shut and he jumped. Normally, Norman wouldn’t have answered the door, but today he bought a Moleskine, and somehow adventure awaited him. He pulled open the envelope and saw a couple pieces of red yarn fibers stuck to the tape which looked oddly familiar. He turned it over again before dumping the contents out and a note appeared taped to the envelope. He gasped. That note wasn’t there before. The note said, “Dreams don’t have to stay dreams, as the universe is open to a world of possibilities. Dream big, Norman, and live fully.” The sender somehow knew his name. Frantically he dumped out the contents of the envelopes. It was stacks of $100 dollar bills. An hour later he had counted $20,000 dollars. Norman’s hands fell to his sides. Finally, he realized that feeling he was experiencing when he first bought the journal. The feeling that was with him every time he looked at it or touched it on the ride home. It was hope. Norman sat down on the couch looking at his moleskine. As he held it in his hands and examined it, something caught his eye. His bookshelf looked different. All his books, they somehow changed. Instead of fictional novels, instead there were books that said, “20 Things to do in France”, “Five Exciting Adventures in Iceland.” There were 30 different books about tourism in other countries that Norman had always wanted to visit. Falling to the floor, Norman started laughing. He felt hope, and joy together, something he hadn’t felt since he was a child. Before the family business, before the market crash, before his boring job, before his boring food. Tears fell from his cheeks, he reached for his phone and dialed a travel agency listed on the back of “Five Exciting Adventures in Iceland”, and booked a week trip. He sent a message to his boss, quitting. Norman decided it was time to start living his dreams. Quickly he packed his suitcase, and grabbed his Moleskine, shouting as he ran. “I am alive! I am alive! I am going to live my dreams!”

There was a buzzing in Norman’s apartment. A watch was sending out an alert at 7:30am, “Time to wake up”, but Norman wasn’t there. He was gone, on a plane beginning his adventure.