He found the journal on the train. There it was, tucked away under one of the seats, with it’s faded green leather cover. He almost missed seeing it, but that little gray rodent scurried across the shiny, black leather shoes; which in turn caused him to look downward and notice the journal. It was late and the rain pounded down upon the metal roof of the Silver Eagle. (Who was Bob? Where was he going, and what did this journal have to do with his life?)
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