And by the end of the day, Indi felt as exhausted as Laura looked — except Laura was heading home to some abusive arsehole husband and Indi was preparing to settle down on a collection of random cushions that soothed her soul. She longed to tell Laura there were alternatives.
Laura
That woman, the casually fashionable one, Indi, was like clockwork. As usual, the last opening hour of the library attracted few customers, but Indi moved around the aisles, her long skirt making a whooshing sound. Laura wanted to tell her so many things, maybe because Indi didn’t speak and there would be no pointed questions to answer.
The regularity of Indi’s presence — a calm contrast to Laura’s reality — had become a comfort, something soothing in her messy life. And then, one Thursday, while straightenin
