The library was unusually still that morning, the kind of stillness that only made the occasional rustle of pages or creak of old wooden floorboards more noticeable. I stepped in with a small stack of books in my arms, carefully balanced and hugged tightly to my chest. They weren’t for me—they were for Mrs. Kelly. Extra stock, to be exact. The ones that had been pre-ordered weeks ago were still somewhere out there in postal limbo, and these were temporary stand-ins.
Mrs. Kelly had been stressed about the delays all week. And today, she stood just outside the library doors, pacing slightly as she spoke on the phone with the courier. Her voice, though somewhat muffled by the thick library glass, could still be heard clearly from the second floor. She wasn’t happy. Her tone crackled with irr
