Raymond is a striking man standing at about 5'8 feet tall, with a lean build. His tousled, dark brown hair is slightly wavy and often kept a bit longer on top, giving him a relaxed, carefree look that complements his easygoing personality. His skin is a warm olive tone, and he has high cheekbones that frame a well-defined face. His deep-set hazel eyes are expressive and often reflect a playful glint, hinting at his sense of humor and approachability. A light dusting of freckles spans his nose and cheeks, adding a youthful charm. He typically dresses in a casual yet stylish manner---favoring fitted jeans paired with graphic tees or button-up shirts rolled up at the sleeves.

Raymond's sense of style is effortless and reflects his passion for the outdoors, often adorned with accessories like a leather bracelet or a simple pendant necklace. His hands, with long fingers and a few faint scars from childhood adventures, underline his love for sports and hands-on activities. When he walks, there's an innate confidence in his stride, as if he's always ready to embrace the next adventure. His smile is warm and inviting, often featuring slightly crooked teeth that add to his boyish allure. Overall, Raymond carries an enigmatic presence, effortlessly blending laid-back charm with a hint of youthful mischief, making him both approachable and intriguing.

Raymond sprawled out on the worn leather couch, his legs dangling over the edge as he absentmindedly scrolled through his phone. The faint scent of breakfast lingered in the air, and from the kitchen, his mother hummed softly, frying up his favorite eggs and bacon. At twenty-two, Raymond didn't have a job or much motivation to get one, though his mother never seemed to mind. She doted on him tirelessly, making sure he had his meals, clean laundry, and anything else he could need---no questions asked.

Raymond knew he should feel grateful, but he hardly gave it a thought. He'd gotten used to the comfort, to the way she anticipated his needs before he even had to ask. His mother, eyes crinkling in a smile, brought a plate of food to him and placed it on the coffee table, just out of his reach. Without a word, she settled into a chair nearby, watching as he scooted forward, grumbling, to get his breakfast.

"Thanks, Mom," he said casually, not looking up from his phone. She only smiled warmly, oblivious to the way he took her kindness for granted.

After finishing his breakfast, Raymond stood up, mumbled a quick "See ya," and sauntered out the door, leaving his half-empty coffee mug on the table. His mother, watching him go, sighed fondly and cleared his dishes, tucking away his plate and cup as part of her daily routine. After wiping down the counter, she decided to tackle Raymond's room, tidying up the unmade bed, folding the scattered clothes on the floor, and straightening his desk.

Normally, she wouldn't go too deep into his things, respecting his privacy, but today her eyes fell on his closet. It had been months since she'd ventured into its depths, so she decided it was time for a more thorough cleaning. Opening the door, she shifted shoes and bags, folded stray sweaters, and dusted off the corners. Then, behind a pile of wrinkled clothes and mismatched shoes, something unusual caught her eye: a sleek, leather-bound book with gilded edges peeking out from the back.

Curious, she pulled the book out and held it up to the light. The cover gleamed, embossed with an intricate design that hinted at elegance and expense. She ran her hand over its surface, surprised by the weight and quality of it. Frowning slightly, she wondered where Raymond could have gotten something so fancy---she certainly hadn't bought it for him, and Raymond didn't exactly have the money for such luxuries.

She took a closer look. The writing book entitled "My Life by Raymond Shobaker" is a luxurious testament to craftsmanship and design. Its cover is made from thick, supple leather, dyed in a deep, rich burgundy that speaks to an air of sophistication and timeless elegance. The leather is embossed with intricate floral patterns that weave through the corners, adding a subtle texture that invites touch. The spine is adorned with gold leaf lettering, elegantly displaying the title in a classic serif font, accented by two delicate gold bands that further enhance its refined aesthetic. Around the edges, the leather is hand-stitched with tight, immaculate seams, ensuring durability while allowing the book to lay flat when opened, making for a convenient writing experience.

Inside, the pages are a glorious sight to behold, created from high-quality, parchment-like paper that boasts a creamy, off-white hue, offering a perfect contrast to the deep leather cover. Each sheet is thick and slightly textured, designed to withstand the flow of ink without bleed-through, making it ideal for both fountain pens and gel pens alike. The edges of the pages are gilt-edged, shimmering subtly with a gold sheen that catches the light, adding an extra layer of luxury. Each page is blank, framed by an elegant border that mimics the floral motifs on the cover, inviting personal reflection and creative expression. The exquisite craftsmanship of both the cover and the pages ensures that this writing book is not just a journal, but a cherished keepsake, destined to hold the reflections, dreams, and life stories of Raymond Shobaker for years to come.

The book was very thick, it held over five hundred pages. Each side of the page help a single entry, although the size of the entry could vary from a single sentence to a couple of paragraphs. Mother looked through the book.

She opened to a random page and read its entry. 'Today I started dating Margaret Jessip.'

Raymond's mother held the leather-bound book in her hands, her thoughts drifting to Margaret Jessip, a young woman Raymond had dated three years back. Margaret was unlike anyone Raymond had ever brought home---a sweet, soft-spoken girl with kind eyes and a gentle smile. She was polite, and thoughtful, and always made an effort to chat with her, showing genuine interest in their family and home. She remembered how Margaret had helped clear the dishes without being asked, how she'd bring fresh flowers or a small pie for dessert, and how she always seemed to make Raymond stand a little taller, and smile a little softer.

Margaret had been a stabilizing presence for Raymond, gentle but firm, someone who encouraged him to think about his future and make responsible choices. His mother had secretly hoped that Margaret might be the one to settle him down, to inspire him to find his path. But that hope faded when Margaret announced that she felt a calling to devote her life to the church. She still remembered the soft but resolute look in Margaret's eyes when she'd explained that her path led somewhere else. It was hard for Raymond's mother to hide her disappointment---Margaret had been such a bright light, one she knew Raymond needed.

A pang of sadness passed through her, mingling with the nostalgia. She sighed, running her fingers over the book again. She wished Margaret were still around; perhaps Raymond's life would have looked very different now if he'd had someone like her by his side.

Mother turned the page figuratively and literally. She found other entries. Most of the entries didn't amount to much. Then she saw another entry, "My teacher, Mr. Pennyworth, caught in a scandal with one of his students. He is fired in disgrace."

Mother remembered the scandal of Mr. Pennyworth He was a married professor at the college that Raymond attended.

Professor Pennyworth had always been esteemed at Harrington College, known for his brilliant lectures and engaging student discussions. But behind the polished facade, whispers began to circulate about his clandestine meetings with Anna, a bright but unsuspecting junior in his literature class. What started as innocent tutoring sessions transformed into long conversations over coffee, and then into late-night rendezvous that pushed the boundaries of professionalism.

When the rumors finally reached the administration, they acted swiftly. An investigation revealed not only the nature of their relationship but also a slew of compromising texts that left little room for ambiguity. Mr. Pennyworth was summoned to the Dean's office. The words "immediate termination" echoed in his mind, drowning out his protests. Within hours, the once-admired professor was a pariah, his reputation shattered, his teaching career laid to waste, all because the allure of forbidden affection had blinded him to the consequences. As he walked out of the campus for the last time, he realized his academic legacy would forever be tainted by a single, disastrous choice.

On another page, there was an entry that said, "Margaret Jessip devotes her life to the church. Never dates again."

Mother thought that was an odd entry. Margaret did become very religious. That was a fact, but why did Raymond include "Never dates again"? Although it might be true, that seemed an odd thing to add.

Mother quickly thumbed through the pages. She found another entry, "My girlfriend, Rosemarie Lauffler only likes women."

Raymond's mother thought for a moment about Rosemarie. She was absolutely stunning. A real head-turner. Curvy in all the right places, with this irresistible smile that just lights up a room. When she dated Raymond, I always thought they looked great together.

She paused for a moment, remembering the relationship. But after they broke up, something shifted in her. She hasn't dated any men since---just women. I couldn't fully understand it, but it seems like she's found where her heart truly belongs. I hope she's happy, though. It's been interesting to see her embrace this new chapter in her life.

Everything in the book was absolutely truthful as far as mother knew. All of the entries were worded from Raymond's point of view. That sometimes made the entry seem oddly written. Mother looked through the entries one by one until she found an entry that concerned herself. It read, "My mother allows me to stay in her house without pestering me. She thinks I'm a wonderful son. She makes my meals, gives me money, and does my household chores without complaining. She never demands anything of me, like to look for a job."

Mother looked at the entry. "Of course I do!" she thought. Why would I complain? I have such a good boy."

Mother wondered why Raymond would write such a thing in his book. She loved her son. Of course, she would help him. There wasn't any reason to write it down. She decided to remove the entry. The paper was so expensive that she knew that she could remove the entry without leaving any erasure made if she was careful. Slowly the entry came off. When it did, her thoughts started to change. She realized that Raymond was wasting his life. He wasn't moving forward, he was just sponging off of her. She still loved her son and wanted what was best for him. Allowing him to stay at her house and supporting in in everything he did wasn't helping him. It was actually holding him back.

She was going to talk to him when he returned home. But as she thought about the book and what was said she came to the realization that the book wasn't stating what had happened after the fact. Maybe writing something in the book was causing that event to happen.

"Is that possible?" Mother pondered. "How could it be? She would have to test it out. If it was true then Raymond would pay. Not just for what she forced her to do, but for what happened to many other people.

Mother wanted to test it out. She thought about what to write in the book. Something simple, let Raymond bring home dinner for the two of them without being asked. That seemed a simple and harmless test.

"Let's see, what should I write?" she thought. "How about Raymond brings home dinner for the both of them?"

That didn't sound right. All the other entries didn't name Raymond by name. On those entries something like, I'll bring home dinner for me and mom," would be what it would say. But is that right? This time Raymond wasn't writing the entry, Mother was. Should the entry be "My son Raymond brings home dinner for both of us?" That sounded right, but if she wrote it like that would it work? I am writing in the book, but the book is called... Mother closed the book and looked at the title, 'My Life by Raymond Shobaker'. This isn't my life, it is his. I think it would have to be as if he wrote it. Then mother should write, "I bring home dinner for myself and my mom." Then he could do it anytime. How about, "Tonight, I bring home dinner for myself and my mom." That sounded more definite.

Mother wasn't sure which statement to write. She didn't think she should write them both. She decided upon the second one. Mother wrote carefully and clearly in the book. "Tonight, I will bring home dinner for myself and my mom."

That should do it. Mother thought.

Mother sat at the dinner table, her stomach rumbling softly as she glanced at the clock, hoping for her son's return. She couldn't help but wish---just a small, simple wish---that Raymond would bring home dinner for the two of them. She imagined the smell of their favorite takeout and how nice it would be to share a meal together after a long day.

To her delight, a short while later, the door swung open, and Raymond walked in with bags in hand, the delicious aroma wafting through the air. "Look what I brought, Mom!" he exclaimed, a proud smile on his face.

Her heart swelled with gratitude. As they sat down to eat, she couldn't help but feel a little spark of joy, thinking about how her small wish had come true.

As dinner progressed, laughter filled the room, and she reveled in the simple pleasure of being with her son. But as she took her last bite, she felt a glimmer of inspiration. Why stop at dinner? Next time, she thought, she would make a bigger wish. After all, sometimes it felt good to dream a little bigger.

Mother kept the book with her. She assumed that she only got one wish a day. She would have to wait until after midnight for the second 'wish'.

This one was something simple, "I won't write another word in this book again. If I see the book, I'll ignore it. Not even touching it if I can help it."

This second wish was necessary. She didn't want Raymond to wonder about the book, or see that she is using it. But she had to test this wish too. She'll put the book in Raymond's room, but not in its hiding place. Someplace where he'll see it. If it's still there when she checks on it, she'll know the second wish worked.

When Raymond was away, Mother put the book on his desk in a place where he'd see it. She would wait until tomorrow and hope that he couldn't touch it as she commanded. Now she had to wait...and wait...and wait.

When the book was exactly where she left it, Mother knew she could do anything and Raymond wouldn't be any the wiser.

Entry: "Today I did the laundry. I folded the clothes. I put the clean clothes back in the drawers or closets where they belonged. "

Raymond hadn't woken up yet when Mother wrote the entry. He didn't even start the laundry as soon as he did wake up. But during the day, the thought of helping his mother out by doing the laundry for her occurred to him.

He approached the task with determination and a sense of responsibility. First, he gathered all the dirty laundry from throughout the house, sorting it into separate piles based on color and fabric type. Once the laundry was sorted, he loaded the washing machine with heavier items like towels and jeans, carefully selecting the appropriate wash cycle to ensure a thorough clean while being mindful of the settings.

After starting the washer, he turned his attention to the more delicate items. Instead of tossing them in the machine, he filled a basin with lukewarm water and added a gentle detergent. With meticulous care, he hand-washed each piece, treating the fabrics gently to avoid damage. None of Raymond's apparel needed this type of care. It was only used for her lingerie, hosiery, and some delicate apparel like a satin top. After rinsing them thoroughly, he laid them flat to dry on a clean towel, making sure not to wring or twist them.

Once the washer finished its cycle, Raymond transferred the clean clothes to the dryer, again selecting the right settings for optimal drying without risking any shrinkage. Once everything was dried, he retrieved the laundry, its freshness filling the room. Carefully, he folded each item, ensuring they looked neat and tidy---T-shirts stacked, pants creased, and socks paired together.