The Magic of Stories | ONC 2024 shortlist

2 - First day

The heavy library door fell into the lock with a thump of finality while a chime sang out its cheery welcome. My glasses fogged from the sudden warmth and added to my sense of apprehension and worry. This was where the rest of my life started—my adult life. My first job, and instead of being happy about it, anxiety made me want to run.

I shook the snow out of my curls and dug in my backpack for a paper tissue to restore my sight—and allow me to inspect my new working place. The library occupied the ground floor of a historic warehouse. A row of tall windows to the street front promised bright sunshine on a summer day.

Right now, with low-hanging clouds shedding heavy flakes outside, the soft grey light filtering into the high-ceilinged room was no competition to the friendly glow of the artificial illumination. It painted circles of welcoming warmth onto the spotless hardwood floor. In the centre of the reception area, a polished monstrosity of a period desk clashed with the state-of-the-art computer terminal sitting on top of it.

As I wiped the slush from my shoes on the floor mat and wriggled out of my down parka, a husky, female voice reached me from the depth of the vast room.

"We're closed until nine. Didn't you see the sign on the door?"

Great, a grumpy coworker was exactly what I needed on my first day. "Excuse me, I—"

"I told you we're closed. Now, get out and come back after nine. Hush."

Did she believe I ignored the sign with the opening hours for no reason? The irritation about the invisibility of my unfriendly conversation partner sharpened my tone. "I was told to be here at eight to get my introduction, madam."

Instead of an answer, I heard something clattering behind several rows of shelves and a muttered curse. The temptation to quit before I'd even met my coworker or—worse—my new superior proved hard to fight. For a moment I stood, gnawing my lip. But there was nothing to be done about it. I needed this job, even if it was just for a few weeks. Besides, the woman I talked to on the phone had been friendly and enthusiastic about my application.

With a suppressed sigh, I hung my parka next to a peach-coloured wool coat on a coat rack by the door, took several deep breaths, and steeled myself to brave my potential new nemesis while I took in the room.

To the right, towards the window front, an open area with a purple sofa, several armchairs, and two dozen colourful sitting cubes invited visitors for a stay. The display of books on low shelves told me this was also the children's section. I turned to the left, where row after row of sleek metal shelves hoarded the treasures of this place.

The voice of the unfriendly woman had come from between the shelves, so I went to search for her there. From the first, empty aisle I tiptoed to the next, but jumped when a thump and the door chime announced a new arrival.

With a waft of chilly air, a short, chubby woman bundled up against the ugly weather entered the room like a whirlwind shedding snowflakes. Between a purple knitted hat and a fluffy scarf of the same colour, I couldn't see much of her face except a snub nose reddened by the cold and a pair of silver-rimmed, fogged spectacles. She took them off and sent me a broad smile.

"Hey, you must be Lynn. I'm so glad you could make it on such short notice, my dear."

She unwrapped her scarf and slipped out of her oversized coat. Beneath, she wore a petrol coloured cardigan over a blue pullover and a faded pair of jeans. Her unruly grey hair was braided, but several strands had escaped her attempt to tame them and curled around a beaming face.

"We talked on the phone, remember?" She slipped out of high winter boots and into a pair of worn out Birkenstocks. "I'm Marjorie. Are you still happy to give this a go?"