D'art & Leta || Late Night in the Library

“…Do you know why books such as this are so important? Because they have quality. And what does the word quality mean? To me it means texture. This book has pores. It has features. This book can go under the microscope. You’d find life under the glass, streaming past in infinite profusion. The more pores, the more truthfully recorded details of life per square inch you can get on a sheet of paper, the more ‘literary’ you are. That’s my definition, anyway. Telling detail. Fresh detail. The good writers touch life often. The mediocre ones run a quick hand over her. The bad ones raper her and leave her for the flies.” [F451- R. Bradbury, p. 83]

D'artagnan read late at night in the peaceful silence of the library. He could sleep there if he could; he did it before. Other times, the librarian or security found him and told him to go back to his dorm. This time, he was positive he was alone in the library, and he even found a secret room for him to hide and stay in, if needed. Then he heard shuffling and the sound of books against wood, as if someone was looking for a book and putting it back when unsatisfied. Raising an eyebrow, he glanced at the page number and slowly closed his book, glancing behind him. He quietly got up, careful to not scrape the chair against the ground and got up, walking through aisles and shelves, following the noise. He hid behind a shelf of books and looking through a gap, he could just see the black, wavy hair of girl. Her back was to him, but when she turned to walk away, he recognized her. “Leta?” he asked. He didn’t mean for his voice to be so loud. In reality, he actually spoke softly but the dead silence of the library made his voice a lot louder than it should’ve.