The logbook I didn’t write

I found a notebook last week tucked under a bench near the old trailhead—water-stained, spine cracked. Not mine. But I opened it anyway. The first page read: 'Today, I saw a bear. It stood still. I didn’t move. We both remembered how to be quiet.' I sat there for twenty minutes, then closed it and left it where I found it. No one else has seen it. I don’t know if I’ll go back. But I’ve started carrying my own notebook now. Just in case.