The Notebook

By Ella Hayes

He levered up the mattress edge, plunging in his hand to grab the small, battered notebook. There were things he would rather take—his father’s pocket watch or the tiny photograph frame with her face smiling from behind the glass—but this notebook held too many secrets. He shoved it into the breast pocket of his jacket, as boots hammered up the stairs. The notebook must not be found by others, so it was to be his travelling companion. Its girth might even stop a bullet and save his life, recompense for hiding their identities. He opened the window and jumped.