Dear Library Girl, I almost asked you what was wrong the first time I saw you crying. Then I saw the book you were reading, and realized that you were crying because of it. And I was interested, because I'd never read anything that moved me that much. I checked out the book you were reading, and guess what? I cried - just a little - too. That's how it started. Every time I go to the library, you're almost always there, usually with a completely new book. Sometimes you smile, or laugh out loud, or cry again, and when you do, I check out the book you're reading. That was it, really, until I realized how gorgeous you are. You're not pretty in the normal kind of way, but god, when you smile, it lights up your face in the best way. I wish you'd notice me, sitting a few tables away from you, reading the book you were reading a few days ago. I wish you'd smile at me. I don't have the guts to talk to you. I'm afraid you won't be anything at all like I imagine. One of these days, I'll work up the courage and I'll ask you about what you're reading. And maybe you'll smile that gorgeous smile and tell me all about it, and then we'll talk about all the books we've read. But until then, thank you for the book recommendations. I love them. Love, Tyler *The body of this letter is not my original work, but rather a prompt for the story you are (hopefully) about to read. Enjoy! French translation on @ClesteVrld's profile!

He just sits there. On seat 31. Reading a book or listening to his music. He looks out of the window. Or looks at her. She just sits there. On seat 30. Reading a book or listening to her music. She looks out of the window. Or looks at him.

"What don't I know about Brooklyn?" "She ain't goin' ta Brooklyn." <>

What happens when Manhattan bred newsies move to Asheville, North Carolina? *READ BROOKLYN BABY FIRST*