DJ Goode

Obsession

I had spent over sixty years planning and writing in the little black book, and yet, it seemed as though no one would receive it before my death. Pulling the elastic down over the cover to ensure that it would not be damaged was the least of my problems. But pull it down, I did. I looked at the cover, black, but worn smooth with time. The gold lettering, once prominent on the cover, was now a distant memory. Remembered only in half dreams between wakefulness and sleep, slipping away with each waking moment.