Strange People at the Library

Intellectual Shaman

It was one of those wet days that made me feel like a pond creature. I was running off the weight, and my stop, after a hot shower was the city library. There are places I go, and just listen, even though most people don’t, and if I open my ears, I will hear strange stories. The librarians are a combination of sweet and sour. They know me—even though I’m the sort of person who tries to be unknown. One of them wears a tight dress, with an accordion key chain around her arm. She stares at the computer screen like she’s hypnotized. The other is a blonde in her late 30s, and always says “hi” to me. There are two overweight women with tattoos and short black hair. They frown at me. There is a lady in her late 60s, who calls me the friendliest person in the world—she…

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