Dear Diary,
Today has been a good day. I found a new diary. This one!!! I’ve been writing my thoughts on random pieces of paper I plucked from the trash. It’s a horrible way to write. Keeping track of the assortment of papers is nearly impossible.
The mall grounds were crowded today. I think every gang and solitary drifter from who knows how far away gathered to trade. Fighting was minimal considering the number of people that were haggling over junk. As usual, makeshift kiosks and an assortment of tables lined the rows of the parking lot. The moment I stepped into the crowd the putrid stench of gutter-rats attack my nose. The smelly thieves were everywhere. Cunning and sneaky, the little pests hunt in well-organized packs.
Shortly after I started browsing the tables a commotion caught my attention. At the end of my row was an overturned table and a girl on the ground holding a crying baby. I put my hands in my pockets and backed away. I knew it was a trick by the gutter-rats, I have seen this particular act of drama before. Without a doubt dirty hands entered the pockets of several unsuspecting bargain hunters today. I’ve been a victim of their pilfering in the past but not anymore I’m wise to their mischievous ways.
Several rows of tables later I spy a diary with a key lock. I joyfully grabbed the book from the table.
The proprietor of the table was a skinny boy of 16 or 17. “Watcha gotta trade?” he inquired as he straightened his baseball cap. Without a doubt, the boy thought he would take me for everything I own.
I reach into my pocket and pull out the two batteries I won in a poker game a few nights back. “I’ve got these!” I tried to sound enthusiastic with my offer. Please note, I don’t excel in acting. I don’t have much of a poker face either.
The boy looked at the batteries and rolled his eyes. “You’re offerin two batteries?” He snatched the book from my hands. “No deal!”
I took a deep breath and retrieve a small bouncy ball from my pant’s pocket. “How about this?” I bounced the ball on the ground a couple of times. “You could bounce this all day and never get bored.”
The thought of not getting the diary send a pain into my stomach. “what’s a boy going to do with a diary, anyway?”
In the end, I successfully bartered. You are perfect. A bit scratched and worn but none of your pages has a mark.
Yours Truly,