This is the Library.
"I am sunshine, my only sunshine, I make me happy when skies are grey!" Not for ten more
minutes, not for two, yes. "Is it open yet?" The crowd congeals, standing, leaning, sitting, waiting,
all facing the same direction: in. A little girl with pink cowboy boots clutches her mom's hand,
rubs her face with the other. "Seven panda bears, sitting at the water hole!" Beard like Santa's,
hair long and white like sea foam. These things hang: umbrella from hand, blue windbreaker from
shoulders. The sky is clear and hot, temperature pushing 80. The doors open, but they still stand,
still, still outside. The shadows of struts and trusses play a strange geometry across mottled carpet
and bookshelves. "Nine tortoises, lumbering around the water hole!" Faint smell of body odor,
smoke, aging pages. They flow, coming out of nowhere, sand through a funnel, from under trees
and around corners, now inside, now gone. New Fiction: Mr. Darcy, Vampire. The Promise of Lumby.
Enemies Among Us: A Thriller. The Memory Quilt: A Christmas Story for Our Time. Pornografia. Up the
spiral staircase, two steps at a time, dog tags jingle. A fish! A fish! "Stay over here, please." Tap tap,
type type, scroll scroll. "Wow." Whrrrrrrrr: Cross-legged on the floor, drill in hand, he dissects the
copy machine. How does she not drop that armful of books? A stronger whiff of body odor. "El
tiempo. El tiempo." A man on a mission obsessively clicks his pen. "How much noise? How
much?" Fish! Fish! "I see no proof or evidence." I DO NOT LIKE THEM SAM I AM! A single
sheet of newspaper blows past an abandoned wool suit jacket – still on plastic hanger – in the
parking lot. "You know, that's just not necessary. Kids can enjoy books without screaming." Big
gulp in hand, backpack on… "This is the library? It does not look like a library."