A different library. Feels familiar, yet not the same.
I haunt the stacks looking for something to capture me.
Poe? Hemingway? Dickens? Each one tempts. For each one,
I reach out to take off the shelf, but something changes my mind.
Perhaps something more modern? A good ghost story?
So many choices in the stacks!
A woman moves slowly through, scanning the authors. She doesn't see me.
I flatten myself to make room for her to pass.
No excuse me. No acknowledgement. Like she didn't even see me.
Nothing new.
I drift into the modern fiction. King, Koontz, Cronin. I could spend all day here!
I pass a book by Koontz. Dark River of the Heart.
About to pull this from the shelf...but then I recall the story. A man
drawn to a mysterious pub with a red door. I must have read it before.
Details leak into my mind. Love and betrayal and a terrorist conspiracy.
A ripping yarn!
So many choices. I must get a coffee first.
Out onto the street. I pass young couples and mothers with children and students out early from school. A mailman, a bag lady, Japanese tourists.
None notice me, but that's the way these days isn't it?
When the traffic clears I cross the street to the Starbucks. Just like my Starbucks!
A modest line. Business ladies in nylons and sneakers, hipster dudes with kindles, a father with two toddlers. I wait with them. Silently, of course.
The rich smells of coffees perk me up. the pastries look delicious! Long time since I had a pastry.
My turn finally arrives at the register. By now I'm suspicious.
Not so unusual to be invisible in the world. Been long used to it.
But this has been different. I'm not going home. Never going home.
This is now home.
Not such a bad home. So many adventures in the library. I can haunt it for lifetimes.
At the front of the line. I try to order. They don't seem to hear.
Louder I try, to no avail. I am unseen, which I am used to.
But no more coffee. Ever again. That stinks.
NOT BY ME BUT GREAT WORDS :)
Unforgiven...
