At the large oak desk of the Johnstown Public Library sat Maggie MacLaren. Her chin on her hands, her gaze wandered to a window and followed the sun. It shone in like limelight upon a gray-haired man with a bushy gray moustache while he perused the daily paper. A pair of unseen feet shuffled across the wooden floor until it creaked in protest and surrendered to silence. Cutting through the stillness, a newspaper page turned with a crackle then settled with a soft rustle. Thoughts echoed through Maggie’s head like an incessant series of freshwater droplets in a torpid pond.
“Why does Mr. Higginbotham wear the same shirt day after day?”
A wooden pencil rolled off her desk and dropped onto the floor. She stooped to retrieve it.
“I wonder if he’s ever washed it.
“Did I say that out loud?”
