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I walked down the aisles between the books again, making sure everything was in place, trying to ignore my aching legs that protested under me.
"Definitely everything where it should be."
My boss was a stickler for perfection; she wasn't so keen on sticking around late and doing it herself; instead, she preferred to get us, minions, to slave away for her.
"Such a bitch."
It didn't matter that the library had been as dead as my love life all day; things had to be perfect.
Taking one last look around, I made my way to the entrance, cast another gaze at the vast empty space now solely employed by books; I turned the light off and locked up.
"No rest for the wicked." I tucked the collar of my coat further around me and made my way to the restaurant.
Today had been the first day since my father died that the sun shone, the first day where I had awoken without the numbing pain of knowing I would never see his face again.
Once today, I had thought of him and smiled, it was just a small smile, the kind that is barely a whisper in the mouth, but it was still a smile.
I knew I would miss him forever, but I wanted to escape the ache that filled me, the tortured pain of knowing he was missing.
I want to be me again.
The restaurant wasn't far from the library, thankfully; once inside, the warm air caressed my face like an ardent lover, a dopey smile on my face at the cold ache leaving my limbs.
"Hey, Melissa, you are five minutes late." Portia Franklin called from her place perched like a hawk on a chair by the front desk, she resembled a younger, less orange version of Donatella Versace, and she terrified the living crap out of me.
"I'm sorry, Portia, I was left alone at the library to lock up."
"Just don't let it happen again."
"No, Portia, I won't."
I snuck past her gingerly as though I feared some violent repercussions for my lateness.
"Did the hawk catch you late?" Imran laughed from behind me as I put my things in my locker, ready to start my shift.
" Yeah, I felt like a little worm. "
"To her, we are juicy little worms, Mel; she loves making us squirm." His thick dark eyebrows wiggled cheekily, making me smile.
"A little scary."
He came closer to me to whisper in my ear. "Portia has her eye on you, little Melissa."
A shiver of fear went through me; there was nothing more terrifying than being told this; I felt like prey to a twenty-first-century version of Elizabeth Bathory.
