“Again, I’m really sorry…” Doppio patted down his other pocket for more as the waitress gave him a tired glare.
The notebook, left wide open, was a mix of stapled documents to the left and Doppio’s own handwriting to the right.
To the right, the pages were dog-eared and the ink was smudged in a few places. It was clear he attempted to keep everything straight but the legible writing was broken up by notes to himself that had nothing to do with the rest and the same doodle of an eerie-looking Venetian mask flowing over from the margins or even woven into the text itself.
To the left was a ledger of some kind. It was in handwriting that wasn’t Doppio’s, but his own notes were jotted down in a few places. The biggest one was “Way too low. Taking matters into my own hands.”
no subject
The notebook, left wide open, was a mix of stapled documents to the left and Doppio’s own handwriting to the right.
To the right, the pages were dog-eared and the ink was smudged in a few places. It was clear he attempted to keep everything straight but the legible writing was broken up by notes to himself that had nothing to do with the rest and the same doodle of an eerie-looking Venetian mask flowing over from the margins or even woven into the text itself.
To the left was a ledger of some kind. It was in handwriting that wasn’t Doppio’s, but his own notes were jotted down in a few places. The biggest one was “Way too low. Taking matters into my own hands.”