Short Stories

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The Borrowed Book

She walked along the sidewalk, her head hanging down, not really paying attention to her surrounding, but realizing they were there. The noise and the busyness of the world seemed distant, yet it was close enough to make her shudder at the thought of contact. The cars and the people are scrambling by her, everyone in a hurry to get somewhere.
Where are they going? She thought, careful not to step in their path.
She secretly craves to have a sense of direction in her life, a place to go, a place to call there. “Would it be too much for someone to just ask me to go with them to the place where they are in such a rush to get to?” She whispered.
Which way? She thought. Should I follow the little red car or the big black truck? The choices were too much for her. The noise, the people, and the traffic were paralyzing her. In the midst of the chaos, she wanted to turn around. She wanted to go back home where she knew she belonged or did she belong? Maybe it wasn’t her home, maybe she was intruding, just a visitor in someone else’s place.
The building to her left looked safe and inviting. Was she welcomed to go inside? Would they allow her to just come in and clear her mind and leave once she decided which way she would go? She stood there looking at the tall building wondering about its contents. The wind now blowing pushed her in the direction of the building. Crossing the street she noticed people. They were leaving, and they had something in their hands. Squinting as the sun released its rays and rested in her eyes, she recognizes what appear to be books.
Was it a library? Yes, that’s it, she thought. It’s a library.
Her mind quickly became a gamut of thoughts riddled with questions.
Would they give me a book? She thought, and would they even let me in? She wanted a place to sit down so her mind could cease from its rambling and rest. Would they give her that?
She brushed the fold of her now tattered and frayed blouse and climbed the steep steps. Reaching for the door she found that it opened before she could even touch it. Her eyes glistened as she felt her heart take a bow and smile. The opened door seemed to welcome her. Thank you, she whispered, careful not to disturb anyone. The cool crisp air circulating in the open space enveloped her, and she stood in the same place for what felt like an eternity allowing the coolness of the building to bring her back to life.
“Which way should I go now?” She whispered, turning around in circles and willing herself to be drawn in the direction of the books.
She’d never seen so many books in her life. They were all seemingly smiling and willing her to choose them. Their covers were inviting, and filled with color. Some were soft, some were hard, and some had never even been opened. She chose one and smiled, it seemed to have beckoned her to it.
The lady sitting at the table in the corner with the green lamp eyed her skeptically. The man standing in the corner a moment ago was approaching her. It was all coming back to her now. She remembered that she’d been there before. It was a very long time ago, but she remembered. All of a sudden she felt the need to leave, but she wanted to take the book with her. She wanted to take it out of its habitual element; she wanted to know why it was that it seemed to have whispered her name. She wanted the book to know that it was appreciated and needed. She wanted it to know what loving eyes resting on it felt like, but how could she? She searched her mind for a way to make it happen, and like the sound of a bell ringing in the far distance, she knew exactly what she would do, she would borrow it.

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