Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Ο Ο Ο
1: Living Water
In a beautiful surrender In a bittersweet farewell It took too long to find the words But you were all I ever wanted
And I know that I've failed a thousand times In the end, you're the only home I find
- by Vancouver Sleep Clinic, 2017
Walking up to the library was perhaps the first thing Richie had done that was unfamiliar in the sense that he had probably never done it before. He smiled a little bit, shaking his head as he walked up the steps and into uncharted territory, into a building he had only ever seen from the outside as a child.
It was air-conditioned, just like the townhouse, but Richie had almost immediately grown accustomed to the weather after a simple walk from where he was staying to where he was going. He had brought a sweatshirt, but it hung loosely around his waist, useless to him. His phone weighed down his pocket, as if cringing from all of the paper resources around it that could grant Richie just as much information, if not more, than it was capable of providing.
A simple white T-shirt hugged his form, and he felt plain. Were they not to be going out to lunch that afternoon? Perhaps he should have worn something fancier, but a T-shirt and jeans were the first things he grabbed, so he had just thrown them on and left.
He had never been in the library, but something he was certain would have lured him in was the fact that there was a gift shop.
It wasn't exactly part of the library, more of an extension— but still. Penny candy, postcards, sodas, everything a twelve year old Richie could have possibly wanted. He walked in, marveling at the different items lined up along the walls and shelves. 'Derry, Maine' and 'I ♥ Derry' sweatshirts hung from racks, folded and displayed on one shelf in particular. Scoffing, Richie zipped over just for a quick peek, disbelieving of the fact that anyone would sell such merchandise. Or, rather, waste their money buying it.
Only seeming to further prove his silent thoughts, almost everything on these shelves were dusty and looked like they hadn't been touched in years. He glanced at the cash register and saw that there wasn't even an employee standing there.
Sticking out like a sore thumb along the rack where the sweatshirts hung from hangers was a button-up short-sleeved shirt, not unlike the ones Richie had worn back in the day. He did a double-take, grabbing it and pulling it off of the hangar to examine it more closely. The fabric was rough, stiff, just like it always used to be, but Richie had always worn them anyway because he thought they made him look cool when he rode his bike and the tail-end would fly out behind him.
