The Librarian
Paper Heart
Why how fascinating, cover page-material. News travels fast. The items I saw inside his rucksack weren’t a coincidence, but rather a blatantly obvious demonic plan I realized before I noticed I had. It’s uncommon for a man to be carrying those things and checking out a book like that out of pure curiosity. Please, you can’t fool me. Don’t be surprised if you’re fucked over.
Is it odd for me to say I find the situation quite interesting? Then again, who’re you to say? I swear I know the lot of people who come here better than they know themselves. Really, people are like open books. How ironic seeing as this happens to be a library.
The bell above the door sounded and I waited to see who it was. There are rarely new faces in here, so I’m guessing it’s a regular of mine. But remember; people’s perceptions of librarians are generally distorted. I’m omniscient, not oblivious. I see you, I notice you, I observe you, I get to know you without your knowledge of such.
A woman, indeed a regular, strolls past my desk without as much as any sign of recognition towards my presence as I was leaning on the counter, letting my fingers skim the surface in intricate patterns. She walked by with her head up like an ostrich, nose up in what appeared to be disgust. I followed her movements with my head, smiling somewhat sinisterly.
Margaret Gerdan happens to be single and not loving it. Her choices in romance novels indicate such, along with the makeup smudges on the pages of some. Margaret’s a woman with the attitude of an obnoxious teenager. From over here, I can hear her chewing her gum like a heifer. It irks me; that sound. Snap, snap, snap.
She heads off to her section of books, letting her fingers roam over the tops of the novels. It contains a certain sense of longing and remorse.
Within a few moments, here she is, in front of me with a decent-sized novel. You know a cliché story where the unwanted girl ends up with the guy of her dreams. It’s funny to see the extent that such desperate people will go to.
Margaret doesn’t even question me, she just hands me the book and her card, rolling her eyes. I didn’t so much as move a muscle in my face. Why would she be worth it.
I hand the book to her along with her card and she stalks out of here. “Goodbye, Margaret,” I mutter. “See you soon.”
Is it odd for me to say I find the situation quite interesting? Then again, who’re you to say? I swear I know the lot of people who come here better than they know themselves. Really, people are like open books. How ironic seeing as this happens to be a library.
The bell above the door sounded and I waited to see who it was. There are rarely new faces in here, so I’m guessing it’s a regular of mine. But remember; people’s perceptions of librarians are generally distorted. I’m omniscient, not oblivious. I see you, I notice you, I observe you, I get to know you without your knowledge of such.
A woman, indeed a regular, strolls past my desk without as much as any sign of recognition towards my presence as I was leaning on the counter, letting my fingers skim the surface in intricate patterns. She walked by with her head up like an ostrich, nose up in what appeared to be disgust. I followed her movements with my head, smiling somewhat sinisterly.
Margaret Gerdan happens to be single and not loving it. Her choices in romance novels indicate such, along with the makeup smudges on the pages of some. Margaret’s a woman with the attitude of an obnoxious teenager. From over here, I can hear her chewing her gum like a heifer. It irks me; that sound. Snap, snap, snap.
She heads off to her section of books, letting her fingers roam over the tops of the novels. It contains a certain sense of longing and remorse.
Within a few moments, here she is, in front of me with a decent-sized novel. You know a cliché story where the unwanted girl ends up with the guy of her dreams. It’s funny to see the extent that such desperate people will go to.
Margaret doesn’t even question me, she just hands me the book and her card, rolling her eyes. I didn’t so much as move a muscle in my face. Why would she be worth it.
I hand the book to her along with her card and she stalks out of here. “Goodbye, Margaret,” I mutter. “See you soon.”
♠ ♠ ♠
A little short, but whatever.