A White One

This One passed though the solid door, which was open a jar, due to the constant wind. The Shadow was amazed. Rows upon rows of literature flooded the sagged shelves. The room was shaped by three walls, mounted with shelves. But there was no fourth wall, only space. Between the two parallel walls stood continued files of shelves, with more and more books on each. This One was so overwhelmed by the glorious novels that they before, that the cold Shadow thought, but only for the briefest of moments, that it felt some sort of warmth spring within it.

"Yes," the Shadow thought, "warmth. Though I’ve never felt it - that must be what it feels like to experience warmth." No longer was the Shadow lonely.