There were twelve of them.
Each had a year written on the cover.
YEAR ONE.
YEAR TWO.
All the way through YEAR TWELVE.
I opened the first notebook.
The earliest entry was dated the day I had helped him carry in the spilled groceries.
Anthony Russo came into my house today. He pretended he stayed because of the coffee. I believe he noticed I was lonely, though I am not sure he understood it himself.
The next entry made me laugh.
Anthony refused repayment again. He is either generous or