Echo

I

My day began as usual: "I <3 books" commuter mug of steaming decaf tea clutched in one hand, rucksack slung over my shoulder as I ambled to work. Raindrops sluiced down every vertical surface, as the stormy sky reluctantly gave way to a coral and fuchsia gift of a sunrise you only see if you awaken at 6:00.

My rubber boots squelched across the train tracks and crunched along the gravel pathway. Only a handful of cars traversed the puddle-ridden roads this early in the morning; still, one managed to veer off the road into the gravel, dousing me in the process. Probably texting while driving.

Sodden, but happy to arrive at my favorite place in the world, I momentarily paused to stamp the mud off my boots. The library was tan and pistachio green- an odd combination for certain- nonetheless, to me it was the most beautiful of buildings.

Each morning, my routine was the same: a goofy grin on my face, I simultaneously took a deep breath and a big step. The electronic doors opened with a soft whirr, and I experienced my favorite moment of the day: I was bathed in warm air while the overpowering aroma of books flooded my senses. Early morning's silence, preceding the low murmur of industrious library patrons, was a symphony to my ears as I wandered to my desk.

I loved where I worked. Before I graduated, I spent every night at the library. A romance novel, a thick mystery, a book about the French Revolution; when I was reading, I was happy. Diploma in-hand, I made a beeline to the place I loved: the library. Working at a public library wasn't the highest-paying job available, but in the library, I felt like I was home.

I dropped into my chair with a sigh of contentment, eager to resume my novel (we didn't open for 22 minutes), when the doors opened for a second time. Assuming my co-workers were arriving, I ignored the slick-slap of leather soles on tile, until I realized that the shoes had stopped just a foot from my desk. Jolted from my book-induced haze, my eyes shot up to meet hazel green ones behind tortoiseshell glasses. My hasty inventory recorded a mop of damp, messy hair atop a lanky body; cheeks ruddy from the chilly October morning, and a briefcase slung casually across a wooly cardigan. Pearly white teeth worried a full lower lip, as his focus never left the iPhone clutched in his palm.

A tad dumbstruck, I was fortunate when my ever-helpful inner librarian surged to the rescue. "May I help you?"

He continued to stare at his phone as he replied. "Hey, I'm Scott Chambers. I'm here about the job opening?"

-

Listen, I know this one's a contradiction 

because of how happy it sounds,

But the lyrics are so down