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Post by NELL DOE DALE on Nov 20, 2011 19:33:27 GMT -5
  Nell didn’t know exactly what brought her to the library that day. Maybe it was the past calling her back to a place she spent most of her childhood in. Of course, it wasn’t the same library. The one she stood before now was much nicer than the one back in The Bronx, the brick exterior similar, something she figured must have been uniform in all libraries. It was almost like coming home. No, actually, she didn’t think she’d considered the library her home. For her, home was always her family, it was her sister and her father when he was still around. It was cliché to think that home really is where the heart is. Libraries were more like asylum, or a base in her childhood game of tag. She would be safe for a little while until she was forced away, back into the hands of her mother.
She stood staring up at the letters on the façade, the winter chill permeating her sweater. Nell pulled up the scarf a little more, chilly thanks to the fact the sweater slid off her shoulder. At least there hasn’t been major snowfall yet. As an Earth student, she was sensitive to the cold. It was a season that no one in her element particularly enjoyed. But she still thought it was pretty, even though the season was doing worse for her mood. She always felt bad nowadays, like she was walking around with something weighing on her chest. And then there was the stomachaches and her constant fatigue and she just wasn’t herself. Nell had to wonder if the Prozac was helping, but she couldn’t really tell. She guessed that it was, since today she actually pulled herself out of bed so she could go and do something.
The girl pulled open the door and entered the warm interior of the library, and it was like entering another world. A silent, more peaceful world. She looked around for a moment, saw a few people milling about, opening covers of books and reading their summaries. Some sat at computers, doing homework or just chilling out. She went over to the philosophy section, her eyes easily finding Voltaire. There was a table nearby, but she didn’t know if she could even keep herself awake by just sitting there. All she wanted to do was sleep, after all. In a moment of inspiration, she began taking books and stacking them up around the table. She’d remember where they all went, with her knowledge of the Dewey Decimal System, and she didn’t want to inconvenience the library aides. After she finished, leaving a small opening for a door, she crawled underneath and curled up with the book, her eyes running over the familiar words.
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