From then on everyday I went to the library after school learning to read and write. I would skip along the booksellers shelves running my fingers along the books' spines. Racing myself to the door of Mr Linden's dining room.
He would always be reading the daily telegram on his old rocking chair in the corner. When I enter he would stop reading and pick up the daily reading book off the coffee table beside him. We would walk over to the Far end of the ginormous library and sit down on the old leather sofa and read the chosen book.
After six months I had learned to read confidently but today was different. II'll tell you about it in the next chapter.
YOU ARE READING
Mr Linden's Library
Short StoryHe had warned her about the book. Now it was to late.
