It was late and Sant was getting tired. Holdsworth dropped him off on the Headrow, a short walk from his apartment, and he was heading in that direction when his phone beeped. It was Mia texting him. She was in the library (where else?) and had discovered something on the microfiche. Not for the first time, he mused.
He crawled up the hill towards the Parkinson Building, its phallic campanile glowing in white splendour like a beacon guiding the scholarly souls below. He stopped at a convenience store to buy two hot chocolates, then realised his error. Trying to smuggle steaming cups of cocoa into a library flanked with learned literature would be no small feat. Luckily, Mia was there to meet him as he clambered up the Parkinson steps.
They drank the cocoa in haste before she held out her
