Ode to a journal

Is it crazy to love a notebook this much? (I don't think so.)

A tangerine-colored secret

Its cover, the color of tangerines, is pocked with rows of mechanically precise dots. The small brick of a book is girdled with a taut elastic, and when I cinch it closed, it snaps with satisfaction. All this journal lacks is an inside pocket where I could tuck random notes gathered on scraps throughout the day. But this imperf…