Dear Loyal Reader, Fridays in the summer seem to suit serial fiction. Don’t know how this ends, or even how the middle reads. We can both be surprised. Your humble servant, María~~~~~~~
My stagnant revere of the sort summer heat brings ends as a soft crackle tickles my ears. That small noise comes bobbing above a cacophonous sea of sound: tick-tacking computer key clicks, sonorous breathing of seniors, authoritative tapping from a student’s pencil.
A brown skinned girl thumbs leathered library index cards. Oblivious to my scrutiny, the girl impatiently runs her dark and stubby nail bitten fingers down a stack of yellowed, dog-eared discarded cards meant for scratch. Face glowing sallow chartreuse in the reflection of the computer monitor, lip pursed slightly, an expectancy of treasure running down her fingers as they riffle the cards.
Noting information that she seeks the girl turns, weaves away into the shelves. Gone from sight, left in her wake, the impatient card shuffling evokes memories I wish not to have.
Compelled by sound, a sitting meditation finds its way to this page, describing a time when I found an unexpected adventure in that same library.
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