Needless to say, when told there was no going back to get them, dream Marta went absolutely ballistic. The bus driver closed her door (yes, it was on a regular school bus sort of vehicle that we were all being evacuated - guess it was a school trip of sorts), and I absolutely lost it to her. She had a gash above her left eye, I suppose I should have been easy on her.
Anyway dream Marta, as soon as she recovered from hospital, went on an epic hunt, Sherlock Holmes investigation style, to find these notebooks once again. I enlisted the help of a fellow friend, a condensationed friend amalgamating all my friends' features in one very amorphous form, and tracked down the bus driver to bring me back to the exact spot I lost my notebooks. The latter took some coercing, in which I bought her many drinks at a local hardcore club with coloured lights and concrete walls. Finally she agreed. I noticed that the wound above her eye had healed already and left no scar.
Then we were off - stealing the bus, driving at top speed, looking over our shoulders to ensure we weren't being followed. Slowly we meandered our way down the steep hill to the foot of the frozen water... Dream Marta ran off the bus and searched on the shore for the notebooks. There they were, red and black and beaten up, all in a stack by a rock and an old campfire. Circumspecting the area first, I charged to them and snatched them up, hugging them to my bosom and vowing to never let them go again. The bus driver and my friend called to me frantically. The police were coming - they'd caught wind of our endeavour.
I flew back to the bus, legs leaping greater distances I thought they ever could, and I flung myself onto the bus. The bus driver put the motor in gear and drove off.
And in this way, my notebooks were saved, and I revealed to myself just how much of a writing nerd I really am.
