alive | ethma

1.

emma chamberlain

The afternoon sun seeped through the large window, small specks of dust floating over the book I was reading.

There's something about the smell of books that reminds me of freedom.

The freedom to be whoever you want, to go wherever you want, and be with whoever you want.

Books give you endless possibilities within your own reality.

That's what I think about while I sit in my favorite corner of the library. This is the one spot where the sun shines through, always engulfing me and my surroundings in the bright sunlight. This right here, feeling so content with everything around me, is my favorite time of the day.

It just so happens there's a window directly next to my spot that overlooks a good portion of the city.

From there I'm able to see people in a hurry to get to work, people sitting in a coffee shop, and people accidentally bumping into one another and apologizing.

I like to give each one of them a story.

For example, right now there's a woman in a work suit talking on the phone while talking. She's smiling.

I imagine she's talking to her significant other, and they're telling her about a cute trick their dog, Bruce, did while she was gone.

It makes me feel like I'm writing my own book.

Ever since I moved to New York, books have been a safe haven for me. I can completely run away from the hustle and bustle of the city and consume myself with a book in my treasured corner. Not that I don't like the hustle and bustle, it's just nice to be able to experience the different paces of life from time to time.

"Emma! Could you put these books back please?" Linda questions, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"Coming!" I yell back.

Linda is the owner of the library. She decided to hire me for the summer to help around, since I already spent the majority of the past year here anyways.

I found Linda and her cozy library when I was adventuring on my own during my first week of freshmen year of college. After that, I spent everyday coming back here and never looked back, as I'm now going into my sophomore year.

Over the course of that time Linda became my mom away from home. She showers me in love and motherly advice and warns me when I'm having too much hope in humanity. Which is always.

I always believe everything will work out for the best. I believe people are inherently good. I believe life gives us an abundance of beautiful opportunities to admire and be grateful for.

I know that's not a popular opinion in society nowadays, trust me I'm aware. I know people call that kind of attitude naive.

I hate when people call me naive. Why is it that when you want to see the good in whatever life throws your way it makes you naive? Why is believing the best in someone so wrong?

Pulling away from my tangent, I soon remember the task Linda asked me to do. I eventually remove myself from the comfort of my little corner and skip over to the books Linda had set down on the counter.

I grab the ladder and start organizing the misfit books into their rightful places.

After a while, I notice that my favorite nook isn't empty anymore, and I smile.

A boy.

No, scratch that; a man.

A man sitting in my favorite corner happily engrossed in a book I couldn't recognize, basking in the same sunlight I was only moments ago.

So I gave him a story.

[my first fan fic omg .. let me know what you think :) sorry this chapter is slow it'll start to pick up]