Waiting

Books in the hundreds are aligned methodically along enormous shelves, giving off a smell of paper that is present throughout the library. This is but one of many observations, caused by a need for distraction from butterflies in my heart and the chaos in my mind.
I lounge on a wooden chair, right next to a window. Book open, albeit unread. The ball of fire sits in the sky, scorning me with its warmth, bothering me by shining rays of sun into my eyes. I want to tell the sun that I’d fancy reading a book, but just not now. Not when this cupid-arrow pinned to my heart hinders me from sitting upright. Thoughts are directed towards that which I had intended to avoid, that is to say, the coming of she who I await. Oh I can almost see her walking towards me, her curly hair following like wisps behind, her quirky smile penetrating my defenses. Amidst my dreams I realize that she was indeed walking towards me. She hits my head playfully with a book, waking me.

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