(Isla)
He left the library and I stayed where I was.
The book was still in my hands. I hadn't moved since he walked out and I wasn't sure how long I'd been standing there but the light through the window had shifted slightly and the room had gone a shade quieter the way rooms did when the person who carried the most weight in them was no longer present.
I put the book back on the shelf.
Not because I didn't want it. Because I needed something to do with my hands that wasn't standing very still trying to understand what had just happened in this room.
He had reached past me. My body had reacted. He had stepped back, said nothing, adjusted his approach without announcing that he was adjusting it, finished what he came to do and left. Four things. Simple and sequential and none of them h
