The library held its
breath.
Rain tapped the high
windows, a thousand tiny
fingers on glass. She
turned a page, the paper
sound loud in the hush.
Dust motes danced in the
reading lamp's yellow
cone. The smell of old
books and wet wool
wrapped around her like a
blanket.
Let it rain forever.
She leaned her head
against the cool shelf,
the words blurring into a
soft gray. The storm
outside was a heartbeat,
steady and slow.
The library became a ship, sailing on a sea of sound.