As Alan quietly turn the lock on his bedroom door, he could feel the slippery sweat sliding between his fingers and the small knob. He knew his roommates should all be at work by now...but it was better to be safe than sorry.
He chuckled. Was(more) he really going to be safe tonight? Or....
His grin vanished.
Would he be sorry?
As he walked over to his bedside drawers, he pushed the thought out of his mind. Where he was going, he couldn't afford to be negative. Or afraid.
He slid open the top drawer of his bedside table and began sliding random objects aside. Eventually, he gently brushed off a black, simple notebook.
Alan noted how new the journal always looked, in spite of the many hands it had passed through. Or perhaps most people preferred to shy away from psychadelic drugs? Alan shrugged at their loss, and flipped through the book until he landed on a page with a folded corner.