Right in the back of our old library i hide most of the books I like,from classics like Pride and Prejudice to YA novels or just modern novels,like Divergent or The Lost Symbol. Mrs. Adams,the old rosy cheeked woman that takes care of that area knows exactly what to leave there and every Thursday evening,when i'm supposed to be on my way home,I stop there,find my way between all those huge book shelves,throw my backpack and sit down,legs crossed,while I'm hugging the last book my beloved old friend hid for me there.
From time to time,someone that's browsing through the back of the library finds me there,in the god damned philosophy section and thinks that it would be the greatest idea to start a conversation about the Natural and Legal Rights. I got used to shaking my head and explaining that I'm only shielding myself from the other people in the library and that there,right there,was my safe place,but they keep trying and trying to get a philosophical definition out of my mouth and everytime this ends up badly because I get annoyed , I don't like to explain myself 10 times and they leave cursing under their breath - why would they curse?i'm the one whose peace has been disturbed.
With the days and the months and the years passing by,Mrs. Adams looked like she needed more and more rest and I offered to help her. She refused everytime,she said she was fine and that I shouldn't worry,but one day she stopped coming at work. And I waited for her. I wanted to visit her,but she wasn't home,nobody answered the door,everything looked empty. Did she leave? She could've at least said "goodbye".
And I kept waiting for her,not wanting to imagine what was about to happen,trying my best to keep my hopes up,doing her shift on Thrusdays ,I just couldn't give up on her and her work. It was the lamest job ever,but she loved it and I loved it. It was the only way that I could keep here there,even though she disappeard just like a single,tiny cloud on the serene sky.
What I didn't know is that ,like me,there was another book lover that hid behind the tall shelves and that really explained why I kept finding doodled bookmarks.. I was always amused by the whole thing and one time I decided to leave a message on the back of a bookmark:
"My,my..we got an artist over here,right? Next time I will leave a stack of paper,I want to see a whole piece of your art. What do you think? Can you really accept this stranger's challenge?"
YOU ARE READING
Dusty Signs
RandomAlexandra is an art college student that spends her Thursday evenings in the back of the town's library,where her friend,old Mrs. Adams keeps hiding books for her to read,not because she can't get them herself,but because she has an agreement with t...
