I bought the journal on a rainy saturday afternoon in a quiet used book store off the corner of Queens and Marshall. I suppose the smell of old paper and moth balls come to mind, when I think about it now… Sort of, grandmotherly if you ask me. Now, I did not know anything about this store, other than the fact that there was hardly anybody there and the books were very cheap. It was my first time in this city, you see. I am visiting my sister. She lives in an apartment just up the street from here. Both her and I have always been very fond of books, So I was very interested in exploring and discovering this one. I wondered if my sister had already. Yes the rug was stained and there was water stains on the ceiling and yes, still, the smell of dust very pungent in my nostrils but I was on a mission.
It is my sister’s birthday soon, that’s why I’m visiting. I needed to get her a present and so of course I entered the store on the corner of Queens and Marshall. My sister, even in her old age, certainly loves to write poetry. When I found the journal in that store it was so beautiful. It had a dark brown leather cover that was engraved with a few words in a separate language. The front was also adorned with pretty jewels that made it shine and shimmer in the dim light of the dingy place. The pages were weathered as if they had traveled and experienced things that could have been written in the pages but were not. I figured the item had a significant value, but when I clicked my cane-- I have a bad back you see--up to the front counter to pay for the journal I was only charged ten dollars! It was such a steal. My sister would have been so proud to know that I had gotten such a bargain. She loves shopping for deals.
The woman who helped me was a beautiful young creature. Her light brown skin was very smooth and clear and I realized soon that she must be Indian or of some heritage relating. She was so lovely, she must have been in her twenties. Very polite, too. I remembered, standing in front of her, that I had forgotten to shave today, and I pushed my greasy, graying hair back onto my head. I smiled, my yellowing teeth showing to her. I was wondering if she found me attractive, but she didn’t glance my way until the end of the transaction.
There was a beaded curtain behind her and just as she was fitting my journal into a thin paper bag a small child popped out from behind it, noticed the book, and started wailing, screaming, I tell you. The child would not stop yelling! And what could I do myself than just stand there looking at the ground… I cannot tell you what came over the small girl. She must have loved the book, which is something that we both had in common. The woman selling me the beloved prize apologized quick with increasingly pink cheeks. I wondered if my poise in the situation was attractive to her; I grinned at her to let her know that the child’s embarrassing behavior was alright. She didn’t smile back at me, instead her cheeks became redder than they had been before. 
She picked up the small child and whispered in her, of what I know not… but the girl’s face was still purple and puffy with tears when she wrenched her body away from the lovely woman in front of me and darted back behind the curtain, never to be seen by me again. I never did see the child again. The Indian woman apologized once more and never looked me in the eyes. It was obvious that she wanted me to leave right after the whole experience, before I could even introduce myself. Her burning skin was just so pretty.

It was only when I returned to my sister’s apartment just down the street did I take the book out of its thin covering to examine it further. I took notice of the pretty jewels, each placed to surround the prettiest one in the center of the cover of the book. See, when I took the book out the next day a very unfortunate thing happened. The beautiful jewel, the one that the book was most likely created to highlight, had fallen off. Without this one jewel, the book was positively ruined, and I realized that I could not give it to my sister, not in that state.
You see, I took the jewel falling off as a sort of metaphor. A sign, from our creators, that something in my life is about to fall apart. Something beautiful and treasured and I have become increasingly frightened of the day in which that will come. For good luck and to hopefully elongate the time until that happens, I have been keeping the jewel with me wherever that I go. If I don’t lose it, perhaps I wont lose whatever I am about to.
Keeping the jewel with me at all times helped for the first few weeks, but my fear has taken control. I no longer believe that the jewel will keep me safe from the loss that is coming, but I still do have it. Here it is, revel in its crimson glow!
On this afternoon, in which we met, I have fixed my problem forever. Please, let me explain.
The book was a metaphor for my life, old and weathered and wise seeming in its pages and the jewel was the beautiful thing that was going to depart from me. I thought that if I got rid of the journal, If I destroyed it, then whatever it was that was going to depart from me couldnt. Every day I would walk past the bookstore and peer in the windows, sure, they needed to be cleaned, and yes, I could smell the books even as I peered through the sill. Why would nobody enter this bookstore? It was cursed, I understood!
Today, I have fixed my problem for good. Today I have taken that journal, and I have gotten rid of it. I have taken it and burned it. The glow of the remaining jewels on the cover was just so beautiful, I wish my sister had been able to see it. I had burned it in front of that haunted bookstore. It was the right thing to do, because the book was theirs. They tried to scare me into believing that I would lose some part of myself, some part that I couldn’t get back. That beautiful girl with the long hair, yes, my frightened nature was her fault. I suppose she has had it out for me since the beginning. So, sir, why are you here? Is there something wrong? The pin on your chest shines almost as bright as my jewel. Did they try to do the same to you?