LIBRARY DAY
At the historical library, gray-haired intellectuals walked about in baggy jeans that looked as if they had been stolen from their children, with sweaters sticking out from under their jackets; short-sighted catchers of obscure trivia bent close over rust-colored newspaper bindings; foreigners staring into flashing laptops got the materials they requested delivered obsequiously to their desks; female graduate students sipped from bottles of water, and with a rustle got apples out of plastic wrappers.
For observation, I selected a red-haired young woman in high heels, in a short checkered skirt, wide as a shepherd’s hat. The skirt bounced as she walked, and she walked back and forth constantly, the buckles of her boots clicking. The girl moved a bit awkwardly, as if she did no
