The last half hour of my existence could be summarized with a single question: “Why?” Or more accurately, “What the fuck?!”
I drove off the highway and down the local roads until Mike’s memories led me to my destination. A large building stood over the expansive parking lot I pulled into, casting its protective shade over the cars under its aegis, defending them from the afternoon summer sun. I found a particularly cozy spot underneath a vibrant oak tree, and made my way towards the front entrance.
In front of me was a staple of American culture, more so than cheap fast food or tons of guns. Before the internet was around, people would come here to find the answer to their questions, no matter how important or inconsequential.
The nostalgic smell of old paper hit my nostrils as I entered the library. The three storey building was decorated with a colorful carpet and soft overhead lights, bright enough to illuminate the entire space, yet not harsh enough to hurt the eyes. The foyer was almost entirely empty, with just a pair of patrons making their way out with a couple of books each.
There was no librarian in sight, and no sign of where I could find one. Mike Smith never spent much time here despite owning a card, so his memories came up blank when it came to navigating the sprawling building.
I made my way into the nearest set of shelves making up the romance section, expecting to find a sign at the other end. That had been 10 minutes ago.
I began to increase my pace, gradually at first, then frantically when I realized I’d passed the same shelf at least three times.
On my fifth pass, I stopped. Taking a deep breath, I let out most of my frustration with a slow exhale. It wouldn’t do me well to get kicked out for turning the shelves into dominos in a desperate call for help, at least before I got my answers.
Out of curiosity, I walked over to the shelf and eyed the titles printed on the spines. And as anyone would expect, just about every single one of them sounded like some kind of schlocky smut. No wait, this was a public library full of children. Why would anyone expect something like that here?
Some of the titles included “Boys will be Boyfriends,” “Anaheim Forbidden Lust,” and “Picking Between my Secret Boyfriend and Girlfriend.” They sounded out of place for 1980s America, let alone a library.
Out of curiosity, I reached out for the books to read the synopsis, and I immediately regretted it. The book was wet. And when I pulled my hand away, it came with a slimy residue coupled with a pungent odor. That definitely wasn’t water. Oh god.
In a fit of utter horror, I bolted into a mad sprint, intent to find a bathroom or die trying. My right hand was extended far in front of me. I was going to keep it as far away from the rest of my body as possible, anyone who got in my way be damned.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
By some miracle, I found a restroom after only half a minute, but it was locked. A sign was taped to the door, informing patrons to ask a librarian for a key. Just my fucking luck.
By another miracle, I was eventually able to escape the romance section the way I came in and headed to the second floor. The first thing in view was a librarian sitting at a large, wooden table supporting a massive rolodex. The giant roll of paper cards was flipped open to the front as the woman idly searched through the archaic device.
The librarian in question was a walking stereotype in her appearance. She had shoulder-length brown hair partially tied in a neat bun, and wore a pair of thick, wire-rimmed spectacles that matched her gray turtleneck sweater perfectly.
I casually made my way to her with a sigh of relief, glad that my current nightmare was about to end.
“Hello sir, how can I help you?” she asked, flashing me a deep, friendly smile. No doubt happy for the interruption from the monotony.
“Yeah, I’d like to use the bathroom please. Apparently I need a key.”
“Right, so is that for number one or number two?”
“Excuse me?”
“What are you going to do in there? Number one or number two? Or number three?” She finished with a whisper.
“Uh, I just want to wash my hands. One of the books in the romance section had… something on it that I accidentally touched.”
“And that’s why the bathrooms are locked in the first place,” the librarian said with a giggle. The action, combined with how tightly her sweater was drawn around her figure, caused the librarian’s body to visibly jiggle underneath it. “We also have a time limit for anyone who takes a key, as an extra precaution.”
“Well, I don’t really need much time there, so could I just get the key?” I asked, forcing myself to keep eye contact.
“Are you sure you won’t need more? I could always extend your time limit if you let me tag along.”
“No, I just need to wash my hands. It really shouldn’t take that long,” I said with a nod and polite smile.
The librarian held out the key on an open palm, the smile on her face quickly turning into a frown accompanied by an eyeroll. I quickly grabbed the key with my left hand and turned around.
Before making it more than a few steps, I faced back towards the woman and asked, “by the way, does the phrase ‘level up’ mean anything to you?”
“Sounds like the System fairy tale,” she replied boredly. “There should be some books in the children’s section, in the same direction as the bathroom on this floor. You’d probably fit in well there.”
“Alright, thanks!” I said before running off to the bathroom.
It didn’t take me long to find what I was looking for this time, on account of most of the nearby shelves only being waist high. Getting my hands clean freed me from the worst of the desperation that clouded my mind, allowing me to start thinking straight again. And the first free thought of the hour was how the librarian had acted. I could’ve sworn, it really sounded like she was flirting with me and was disappointed that I didn’t reciprocate.
But that entire scene felt way too off, and I wasn’t about to get kicked out for sexually harassing some poor librarian. I mean, what I saw was just my imagination, right? Right?