The Library

She has on a light fabric. It is black with an interlacing white pattern. The sleeves short on her arms. They fall just below the elbow. An easy V shaped cut around the neck. It is a casual dress top. Which could be worn to a nice dinner. She rest her chin on her palm. Turning it over and staring at the screen. Her deep blue eyes absorbed in their task.  One hand scratches her neck. The other rests on her keyboard. Ready to type. Her eyes are tired. The lids sag as she struggles for focus. Net brown hair is tied back. Slipping out to fall softly behind her ears. She rests her sunglasses on her head. Her lips are tired but look strong. They have been firm for too long. She has delicate white arms. But solid. Under her pale skin are the thin blue lines of blood. She continues to read from her laptop. It is a rather large grey Dell.

Next to me a younger man sits. His unruly hair waves as he shakes his head. He is listening to music. And working on his laptop. Fat headphone sit over his mop of hair. This hair is wrapped in a blue bandanna. He wears a short-sleeve T-shirt. It is red,

The woman looks tired. Like she is about to nod out. But she keeps up the vigil of work. A tight fist holding up her chin. Her fingers rest on the keyboard as she zones into the screen. But now she is typing with both hands. Just for a moment. Her long lashes can be seen as her lids slip closed.

The young man puts away his laptop. In his blue jeans he packs and leaves. It is just me and the woman now. She rests a finger on her upper lip. Her eyes move back and forth slowly. Staying awake right now appears to be a real effort. But for a moment she seems more alert.

Her fingers are thin and precious. There are no rings. But it is time to leave. She takes her red bag from under the table. Closing her laptop she gets ready to go. But she is looking at magazines first. The thin black fabric is a full dress. It falls just above her knees. As she walks away her strong legs are visible. She has flat brown leather shoes on her feet. She browses from the New Book rack.

Now there is no one else at the table. I haven’t seen the hot girl here today. Outside the sun is shinning and the air is fresh. In a room people clap for poets. I’d join them but the sun is calling my name. And the fresh air beckons to me.

There are rarely so few people in the library. It must be the sun has called others to the outdoors as well. The woman looks at DVDs. Her brown hair is short. Cut just above her shoulders. She rounds the corner to look at other books.

She passes again behind me as she leaves. She walks with a tired purpose. Like a person who knows where they are going.  But is sure they don’t want to go there. A person putting off what can’t be avoided.

A man is helping his son find something on the computer. The boy with a tangle of hair and the man with a sharp cut. He is focused. While his son seems restless. He fidgets and loses focus. He has sat down and stares out the window. He wears a bright blue shirt. It proclaims, “I (heart) Bacon.” But the heart is an egg in the shape of a heart. The father has long fingers which he uses on the mouse. They get up together to look for more books.

Once again it is just me at the table. I sit and write while the sun shines down outside. The crowd in the other room claps. Soon I shall join the birds and the fresh air in the sunlight. A young woman with deep focused eyes walked in. She wears a thin grey T-shirt. And red shorts of a thin nylon material. Her light brown hair is tied in a neat bun. It rests on the top of her head. She wears black flip-flops. A small sharp cute nose and pretty eyes. Her face in young and unmarked by lines. Her crisp chin line above a slim neckline. Her T-Shirt has a pretty neckline cut. The grey has small black dots across the material. She talks on a phone with a gold case. Her short nails are dark blue. She looks down and holds her lips firm. The thin lines of her eye browns are echoed in the line of her collar bones.

The hair bunched in a bun rests on top her head. It appears to be medium length. It is tied up with an old white hair tie. She looks away for a moment deep in thought. Her eyes are deep and brown. Like the souls of people in love. But she is not in love today. Distracted by magazines, she is waiting on the computer to be ready for her. She has come here to print something. She scratched her head with thin fingers. Swallows and again looks to the door. Is she expecting someone to arrive?

She is making progress. Getting up from the computer on her shoulders rest the straps to her bag. She has small cute ears. Her hair swept back neatly into the bun. She pays the machine for her prints. The woman in young, maybe in her 20s. With the body of a young college student. She watches the printer as it spits out paper. She has a moment to smile. But soon is re-focused and sharp eyed. With her project done she takes her exit. Stopping to view some books along the way. Now she is walking back into the corner. She has gone out of view with her lithe frame. And has now returned.

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