Sinking Ships | L.S |

0.5

L O U I S'  P. O. V

The quiet atmosphere of the library was interrupted when I heard someone dropping a cart of books. Coincidently, the sound of the cart of books falling over brought me back into reality. I was sitting in the back of the small building, at a computer desk. I had the entire area to myself, aside from a smaller kid who was most likely working on a school report that was due the next day. Poor kid, he should just give up now.

My thoughts were revolving around H_S_97, or rather, Harry. He is the first person that's ever talked to me through social media. Sure I have had a few comments on my profile about how they like my work or something, but this was the first time someone messaged me through a direct message. I was really surprised when I got the message and didn't answer for about an hour. I thought it'd be better if I were to ignore the person, pretending that the message didn't matter. I obviously did not listen to myself because now a week later, I was talking to Harry.

I don't know him. That's easy to admit. I don't even know the kids favorite color. We've had a few conversations but it's nothing that important. A majority of the time we are just talking about The Walking Dead, only the best and most important show to ever exist. I'm trying to get him to watch Supernatural, which is another great show. Not as good as The Walking Dead, but still.

To be perfectly honest, Harry has been circulating my thoughts for a while. What did he look like? Every time I tried to picture him my mind came up empty. Did he have blond hair? Braces? Freckles? Was he a redhead with green eyes? Was he actually seventeen or was he really some older man that's trying to get my address? Was Harry's hair straight or curly? What color were his eyes?

All those questions circulated my head and it gave me a headache. I wanted to ask him, just to stop my curiosity. I've always been a curious person, asking questions after questions, so it's natural for me to being wondering about him. I would ask Harry for a picture of himself but I'm running into a brick wall. Knowing Harry - despite not knowing him long - I have a feeling he'd mock me about it. He'd probably mention me not even wanting to talk to him, which is something I'm beginning to regret. I actually like talking to him. He can be really witty sometimes and his comebacks are downright hilarious. I can't count how many times the librarian has shushed me for laughing too loudly. There was just something about him, it was nice to actually talk to someone.

I haven't had many friends in my life. Back in high school I was known as the punk kid. I think it was because of my tattoos. As soon as I turned eighteen my senior year I went out and got tattoos. My parents didn't really give a shit, but that was expected. Darren - the fucker I have to call my stepdad - has tattoos all over his body so he couldn't really say anything. It's not like he would though, he and my mom are normally too high to care.

But back to what I had originally meant to say. Nobody bothered to be my friend. I had a few people I talked to, but none of them stuck around very long. So when Harry messaged me first it was odd for me. I thought it was some sort of joke and a small part of me still does, but I won't stop talking to him. I guess you could say I liked the attention.

"Louis dear," A frail voice came from my left. "The library is going to be closing in a few minutes, you should probably start getting ready to go." Mrs. Thompson said. She was an older women, in her sixties I think. She was one of the only people in this entire town that actually liked me. She wasn't afraid of me despite my 'punk' or 'edgy' look and to be honest, it was refreshing.

"Okay, thanks Mrs. T." I said. She smiled at me and began to walk away, her white hair hanging over her shoulder. She really was a nice women, it's such a shame she's stuck working at a library when she could be retired and doing whatever the hell she wanted to.