A moment arrived in which I pleaded for my conscience to take quick form.
The library had dulled drastically as dinnertime hours approached, a penultimate silence. The only distant sound a laborious print job long forgotten-- I heard the end coming as printer's sighs became less frequent, a spent cow after labor. Wondering why I was here, I sighed, bundling up my small pile of listless novels. Undergrad days ended years ago, yet still I liked to linger at Littleton Library, depending on Dante to guide me through the inferno of daily life. Or something. What I really need is to be more grounded.
I reminiscently pick up an unabridged edition of Jane Eyre but shrug it away in disgust. Been there, done that. I reflect on the events of yesterday. Nah, I'd rather not. I cringe, and chew gum and fingernails with reverence.
Presently, a vibration soon interrupts my pathetically unprofound thoughts. My shoulder bag buzzes, a modern day poltergeist in my midst.
The number on the screen haunts me with a familiarity I can't quite place.
“Hello?” I croak.
Anyone have any ideas on how this story should play out? Who is on the other end of the line?
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