Anything Can Happen

Trapped

Walking through the snow at ten in the morning is never a good idea. In fact, it's a stupid idea.

Unfortunately, I've been known to be quite stupid.

Everything around me was encompassed in pure white snow, inhabiting every corner and every crack it could discover. I trudged through the crunchy snow, the bitter cold biting into my body, even in heavy layered clothing. I breathed in the harsh air and almost gave up on this little adventure I had thought up for myself.

I hate winter; especially snow.

I remember only a few hours ago I was in bed, the warm covers insulating my body as I looked through my Instagram feed. I was happy. I was content.

But I had to choose this day, out of all the days, to go to the bloody library because I didn't want to pay the ten pence charge for my overdue book.

I'm such a moron sometimes.

It's been around twenty minutes walk from my house yet it feels like I have been on this journey since the day I came into this world. Dramatic, but true.

I walked some more until, finally, I saw the little library of my busy town up ahead. My lips broke into a huge grin, knowing that it's going to be warm and cosy as soon as I get into the building. Who knows, I may never come out of there if I have to face the cold again.

I pumped myself up and ran the last few yards. At least, I tried to...

When I finally entered the double door, instantly feeling the heat creep up on me and warming me up, did I relax and lose the scowl I wore while walking here.

The library was disappointingly small for such a large town, but the cramped shelves filled with books of ordinary people's extraordinary imagination was more comforting than my own home was sometimes. This was my second home, and if I could live here, I would.

There weren't many people here today, which I shouldn't be surprised about; they're not as retarded as me that they would visit the library with ankle deep snow outside to slow their already short lives down. Besides myself, there was an elderly couple, both too engrossed in their chosen books, a little kid lurking in the shadows where even the light couldn't reach, and a middle-aged woman who looked like she'd been through a tsunami, a hurricane, a tornado and God knows what, to get here. Her hair said it all. Strangely enough, there was no staff that I could see, but I wasn't too worried because they usually hung around the staff room until they were needed. Apparently, they trust us to not steal anything from a library.

I rushed towards the self-service machines stood next to the walls because I didn't want to be at the receiving of a very lethal scowl from the librarian for ruining her precious time with her smartphone, which she recently bought after continuous arguments with her medieval husband. She hasn't shut up about it since and was constantly in awe of all the crazy things it could do. It was cute I guess, but it got quite tiring after I had to repeatedly show her the basics, like texting, which she still hasn't been able to figure out.

After having scanned my book and dumped it in the clear box next to the machines, I decided to browse through the novels, since I needed something to read at night. The shelves, which looked like it would come unhinged any second, were filled with dozens of hardbacks and paperbacks of various young adult fiction from writers across the world. They were all in a neat stack, being squashed together due to limited space. Just looking at them gave me a sense of peace, like having your best friend beside you, knowing that they will support you, stay with you, and never judge you for your psychotic personality. That's what books were to me: my best friends, my family.