Interlude 1: Around the Rosemary

The sun had just risen, ushering in a new day, and I knew that the library awaited me. I dressed in my most comfortable suit - a pair of black pants and a white shirt - and made sure not to forget my library card before leaving my room. "Kris, Gene. I am going out. Do you want anything?" I called out but was met with silence. They must have already left for work, I thought to myself. It was unusual for Kris to be up and out so early.

I decided to brew myself a cup of earl grey tea, which filled my senses with its fresh aroma. As I sipped on my tea, I couldn't help but wonder how my roommates could stand that industrial coffee. Mocha or latte always made me feel too full after just half a cup.

Living near my workplace gave me the luxury of enjoying breakfast at a leisurely pace. It was just half past seven, and the library would open at eight. I knew I had to leave before the streets got too crowded. I made a few too many blueberry pancakes while lost in thought, but decided to store them for later as a snack.

As I descended the stairs, I encountered the farmer who lived on the floor below me. He was always so cheerful, though a bit too blunt for my taste. Rumor had it that his wife had passed away from an incurable disease, and he had returned to this place to live a vain life.

As I made my way down the stairs, I bumped into my neighbor, the friendly farmer. His usual attire, a short and a torn shirt, was nowhere to be seen today. He wore a proper shirt and pants, which gave him a more refined look.

“Howdy, neighbor. Off to those boring books again?” he joked, eliciting a laugh from both of us. Some might find his remarks insensitive, but I knew he was just a simple man with a straightforward sense of humor.

I offered him some blueberry pancakes that I had made earlier, which he eagerly accepted. As he took a bite, his face lit up with delight.

“Are these blueberries the ones that we picked from my garden last week? Maybe some more fertilizers would make these sweeter,” he said, still chewing. Suddenly, a piece of pancake fell from his mouth, and he made a mess on the floor.

I quickly handed him some tissues to clean himself up. Despite his messy eating habits, I always enjoyed spending time with him.

"I've told you before, Mr. Drunes, this particular blueberry plant tends to be sour rather than sweet. If you want something sweeter, I can recommend Blueray's seeds for the next harvest." I said, attempting to reason with the stubborn farmer. Just as I finished, the door of the apartment across from us opened, and Mr. Floyd stepped out to join our conversation.

"You should listen to our little librarian here, Mr. Drunes. He's much more knowledgeable about these things than your farming experience." Mr. Floyd said, grabbing a handkerchief and cleaning Mr. Drunes' shirt as he spoke. Mr. Floyd was once the state treasurer but had suddenly retired, surrounded by rumors of underground crimes and suspicious activities. My second-oldest brother, Marcel, warns me not to trust every word he said.

"Here you are, Mr. Floyd. These are the documents about Arizona's historical towns. But, may I ask what you need them for?" I handed him the file I had been working on for a few nights. It was an unusual request, and Mr. Floyd had come over after hours to make it. I had a feeling that I didn't want to know the details.

"It's related to Mr. Drunes here, Mician. I'm trying to help him reclaim his family's lost property. But, you don't need to concern yourself with the details," Mr. Floyd replied, squeezing Mr. Drunes' shoulder a little too hard, causing him to choke on a piece of pancake.

"It's Mikhail, Mr. Floyd. And next time, maybe just call me the little librarian or something. I don't like having my name spelled wrong." I said, annoyed, as I performed the Heimlich maneuver on Mr. Drunes, who had started to choke. Just then, a spat broke out on the lobby floor.

“Fine, fine, little librarian. Let go, Grant, the train is going to move without us.” Dragging Mr. Drunes by the ear, they left in a hurry. “At least let me finish my breakfast, Reynald,” his last words before the taxis take both of them away.

As I walked towards the library building, I couldn't help but notice how the morning sun illuminated the streets, creating a beautiful contrast of light and shadow. But there was no time to admire the scenery. I had to get to work. The library was just a few blocks away, and I quickened my pace.

The mayor of this town had a strange obsession with air conditioning, and he had installed it in only a few public places, including the library. It was a relief to escape the heat, but sometimes the frigid air made me long for the warmth of the sun.

I remembered how Ragnar, my former colleague at the state house, had recommended this town as a good place to wind off. But after seeing how frequently I visit due to stress, he wrote a recommendation letter to the mayor on my behalf to be his secretary.

The job was going well, but when we built the library, things became more complicated. The lack of resources made it challenging to keep up with the workload.

As I was lost in thought, I heard a loud banging on the glass door. Startled, I turned around to see Professor Sirus, a tall and slim man, approaching me. He was a frequent visitor to the library, and I had grown accustomed to his intimidating presence.

"Hello, are you in there?" he asked impatiently.

I unlocked the door and let him in. "We're still closed for the moment, but you're welcome to come inside," I said

Professor Sirus was a regular visitor to the library. Despite his popularity among students, some of his colleagues criticized him for his reclusive nature. I made him a strong cup of black coffee, knowing that he preferred it without sugar.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

The aroma filled the air as I handed him the cup. He took a big gulp and drained the cup in an instant. I smiled, knowing that the caffeine would wake him up and prepare him for the day ahead.

“Are you here for your usual astronomy books or the Strigiformes book you asked for last week?” I ask.

“The latter,” he replies with a monotone voice, indicating that he may not be in the best of moods.

I nod, understanding that the professor's requests are always specific and unique. His borrowing profile is filled with rare books, including one titled "The counter-argument against string theories." It's a fascinating read, as the author debunks every aspect of string theory with convincing arguments, until the last page where he contradicts himself.

[ As much disproven of the string theory, it serves still as the basic fundamental key for those to understand what current day’s space theorists realize on ]

As I finish opening the library, I retrieve the book Professor Sirus requested and hand it over. "Last of seen night owls," I say as I give him the plastic-wrapped book. He sniffs it, which is a strange gesture, but I've learned not to question Professor Sirus's quirks. He hands me his library card and leaves in a cheerful mood.

The rest of the day goes by uneventfully. The lunch I brought is ruined, and I'm forced to have a plain donut from the nearby donut store. It's Tuesday, so the library is relatively quiet. The only visitors are elderly folks who come to chat and college students seeking refuge from the heat.

Feeling that there's no need to keep the library open until the usual time, I decide to shorten the hours. Closing fifteen minutes before time, surely there wouldn’t be a sudden visitor, right? Every book that isn't copyrighted or a rare, one-of-a-kind copy is available online, and the physical copies sit on the library shelves, collecting dust. It's a sad reality, but I suppose that's how the world is evolving.

I should catch the bus for an early arrival at the city hall. The sooner I got there, the sooner the work is finished. It was a short ride, only fifteen minutes with three stops, but it was enough to clear my head. I didn't bother taking notes about public transportation improvements.

When I arrived at City Hall, I was greeted by the mayor himself. "You're here early, Mr. Godfrey," he said. His sharp eyes didn't miss a thing. It was no surprise that he was a former hunter, as I had heard before.

"Mayor Apothecary," I replied, nodding respectfully. I placed my bag of paperwork on the table and began to sort through them, putting each document in order of priority.

As we worked, the others in the office left promptly at five o'clock, leaving just the mayor and me to finish up. The town was relatively small, only twenty years old, but there was still so much to do. The network and electricity had been established ten years ago, but there was still plenty of work to be done.

Saudade was a mysterious place, even to me. I had been a citizen for a year now, but I couldn't shake the feeling that there was something hidden beneath the surface.

Perhaps it was the old railway that passed through the town, or maybe it was an old west town that had been abandoned and rediscovered by the Apothecary family. Whatever it was, I knew that there was much more to this place than met the eye

I finally finish my work as Mr. Apothecary's assistant before midnight. It has been a long and exhausting day, but at least I have managed to complete all the necessary tasks for the day. I take a deep breath and stretch my arms, feeling the tension in my shoulders release.

"Thank you, Mikhail. I would love for you to come to my home for a roast, but..." Mr. Apothecary's voice trails off, his expression tense. I can tell he's worried about something, perhaps the fact that he's been working late into the night and his wife will be upset with him.

"It's all right, Mr. Apothecary. It's late and your children are probably already asleep. We can reschedule for another time," I assure him, trying to be understanding.

"Good night, Mr.Godfrey," he says, and I make my way out of the city hall.

The night air is cool and refreshing as I step outside. It's already 10:00 pm and I wonder if Kris and Gene are already asleep. I decide to stop by the bar across the street from our apartment to grab a drink before heading home.

As I enter the bar, the familiar scent of alcohol and cigarette smoke hits me. It's not the most glamorous place, but it's run by my cousin who always gives me a discount on drinks.

I push open the door and the warm light and jazz music greet me. The familiar scent of alcohol mixed with cigar smoke fills my nostrils as I make my way to the counter. Daniel, my cousin who works as a bartender for the night, greets me with a smile. "Hey, Mik. What can I get for you?"

"Two old fashions, Daniel," I order, taking a seat on one of the barstools. The sound of jazz music fills the room, reminding me of the old times when his father used to play his saxophone at family gatherings. How silly and carefree we used to be.

"Coming right up, Mik," Daniel says, and before I know it, two glasses of old fashion appear before me. The strong whiskey burns as I take a sip, and I realize how bitter it is compared to the sweets I usually eat to relieve stress. But it's a good change of pace, a palate cleanser for my troubled mind.

As I take another sip, the cold alcohol washes away the tension from my shoulders, and I start to relax. But no matter how much I drink, I know it's not enough to get me drunk. I don't want to risk a hangover on a work night.

"Those two are enough for tonight," I tell Daniel, setting down the empty glass. "I don't intend to have any more, so I'll pass on the shot."

Daniel chuckles, a mischievous glint in his eye. "I can give you a free shot, Mik. You've been such a good librarian lately."

I shake my head. "No, I don't want to take the risk. Put it on the tab for the end of the month, please."

With a nod, Daniel agrees, and I leave the bar, feeling more relaxed and ready to face whatever tomorrow brings

As I turn the key in the lock and push open the door to our apartment, the familiar sight of my roommates lounging on the sofa greets me. Gene and Kris are snuggled up together, engrossed in a movie and munching on popcorn. They both turn their heads at the sound of the door, and Kris lifts his camera to snap a picture of me.

“Mikhail, you're back early! I thought you'd be working until midnight or later,” Kris says cheerfully. I'm grateful for their warm welcome, but the thought of work makes me tense up again.

Kris was a drop-out from the media major, he was introduced as my roommate by Gene. At first, I was uncomfortable by how open about “adultery” he was, but behind all that he is compassionate about his job…

Speaking of his job, before last month he was going out to “gather information”. Then the local paper saw his picture online about Saudade’s nature and ask him to be the paper’s paparazzi. One less unemployed one in our apartment, the better. At least he could buy his own snack now

“I finished up earlier than expected, luckily,” I reply, feeling relieved to be home.

“Hey, come watch with us! There's still plenty of room under the blanket,” Gene chimes in, patting the cushion between him and Kris. I smile at their invitation, feeling grateful for their company.

“Sure, let me just take a quick shower first.” As I strip off my clothes and step into the steamy shower, I feel the warmth wash over me, soothing my aching muscles. I scrub away the lingering scent of alcohol from my skin, knowing that Gene hates the smell.

It’s strange that a bodyguard like him doesn’t follow his client to nightclubs, but I appreciate his attentiveness. After I dry off and slip into something comfortable, I join my roommates on the couch.

Kris slides over to make room for me, and I snuggle under the blanket, feeling their warmth seep into my chilled body. As the movie plays on, I feel myself drifting off to sleep, content in the safety and comfort of my own home.

Good night…

The end