Me and Bear

Chapter two

Austin

It is quarter to eight in the morning and I am, once again, on my way to work. Working in the town library certainly has its perks, like the mountains of books I can sift through, the silence of the dusty rooms that probably haven't been cleaned since sometime last century, not having to listen to the whispers of the townsfolks who continuosly try to convince me that being attracted to the same sex is a sin.

It's foggy and drizzling light rain, a normal murky morning in the town of Bearuns, England. The rocks making up the cobblestone street under me are wet and slippery, making walking on the uneven path slightly more difficult. Small one-storey houses lined up on both sides, walls slightly crumbling and the authentic wooden window panes are almost completely covered with moss.

No one is out at this time, the streets are empty. I like it this way, I don't have to worry about bumping into anyone when lost in thought nor will I have to feel the burning stares of others. The street lamps and the odd trashcan here and there are my only companions on this foggy morning. Fortunately, the fog is not too heavy so I can see more than a few steps ahead of me which helps me avoid the puddles that have formed despite the sewers. The wind, though icy, is welcome, for it pushes away the clouds and brings to me with it the smell of the sea along with a sound that I believe to be the crashing of waves on the shore.

Finally, I reach the town's library. On the outside it looks like any other ordinary building on this street but inside is where the magic and allure of this place lays. An old little bell tingles when I enter, the key gets stuck in the keyhole like it always does. A minute of struggling with the stubborn little piece of metal and I can close the door. A quick look around shows that nothing has changed since I left yesterday, not that I had expected anything to change. Really, I would've been surprised had something changed. The owner and keeper of this haven, Mr. Darby most probably hasn't changed anything in this building, furniture or placement-wise since he got this place. The whole town seems to be stuck in the past, for most everything here is passed down to younger generations by family lines. Family businesses, I believe they're called. It is odd that the majority of young people that grow up here stay here for the rest of their lives. Whether they believe strongly in keeping family traditions going or they simply don't feel the need for adventure, they hardly ever leave this small town by the coast. As for myself, this is the only place with memories of my parents and I do not feel ready to leave them behind just yet. Another reason I've stayed, and it is the only one I admit to out loud, is that I simply do not have the funds to just up and go. I've been saving these past few years that I've been working at the library because the people and their whispers are getting more and more unbearable. I've been pushed close to my limit and I have thought about leaving many times before my rational thoughts take over again and force me to think clearly.

The sight of the tall dark shelves filled to the brim with old books is comforting. I have always managed to lose myself between these shelves and jump into the alternate worlds of the characters I read about. It gives me reprieve from the darkness of the real world and I can completely submerge myself in the pages because no one ever comes to the library. They simply do not have the time with their businesses that need running and gossip that needs to be told. Even if anyone stumbles into here it is usually by accident and if they do happen to be looking for a book, they would rather look for their book for hours than ask me for help. It's funny in its own way I suppose, how they try to avoid me whenever possible yet feel the need to constantly talk about me behind my back.

Dismissing the unpleasant thoughts, I maneuver my way through the shelves to the back room where I can hang my coat and put away the bag currently hung over my shoulder. My grey coat is heavy and wet, the rain having clearly done its job. I stuff my scarf into the sleeve of the coat and throw the overclothes onto the old fashioned clothes rack. My thick maroon sweater keeps me nice and warm even in the slightly cold building.