Library*

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is about being at the library, a bit of drabble I suppose.

Submitted: December 07, 2008

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Submitted: December 07, 2008

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I have just finished reading in a library, in a small and confortable town. A large place in the libaray set off for reading, and other things having to do with literature is where I currently reside. It, being the room, almost seemed like a part of a cozy cafe you might find downtown, with its comfy one person chairs, tables, and magizines, used for reading a discussing or anything one may wish to do, within reason of course. What I find so pleasant about this place is the glass wall. A wall of windows that strech to the ground to about half the celing. It allows me to see everything outside, such as the barren tree that has just managed to catch my attention. It's branches twisting and turning reaching towards a blue-gray sky that whispers promises of snow. And I can hear the church bells ring every hour. Next door to this place is a man who knows my mom. It has been long since I've talked to him, and it would be nice to see him again. I wonder how much ahir he has lost since I have last seen him. I suppose I'll stop by the coffee shop before heading home. Someting warm would really hit the spot at the moment.


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