The Skunk River Review - DMACC

invisible, and the icy feel on the inside of the building, is not all that dissimilar to the outside of
the building today.
While shuddering from a sudden chill, I make my way back towards the front of the
library. In doing so, I pass two middle-age librarians standing very close behind an aisle of
audio books. They are whispering, not for the facade of a library rule, but for the secret they
appear to be sharing. Then startlingly there is a child’s voice. Where did that come from? She
hollers, “Mommy, I’m out of bullets!” A little girl, of slight build, is sitting near the end of the
children’s section playing some sort of video game on a computer. Her mother is nowhere in sight,
and the child continues to play her game. She’s oblivious to the children’s books all lined up in
bins, just the right height for little people, their curious and colorful titles begging for her
attention.
A woman, at last, is sitting behind the information desk—with no one in quest of
information. The sound of paper shuffling, and an occasional key stroke, makes her appear to be
busy. Beyond this point are the computer terminals for internet use, all lined up at attention, to be
of service to the first user. The study rooms are dark and uninviting. Even the blinds in this section
of the library are drawn, for fear that if any light filters in, it would be an invitation. The
atmosphere in the library today is not its norm, which is usually busy with activity.
I now realize I have wandered in a circle and am facing the front entrance, where the
activity of people, cars, and the sounds that accompany them, await just on the other side of the
double glass doors. My afternoon at the library feels more like a trip to the twilight zone. The
silence is unusual, even for a library. The lack of patrons is strange as well. The light coming from
the other side of the doors draws me forward. The feeling of restlessness starts to fester. The need
for normal human contact is building. I think it is time for another change of scenery, and out I go.
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