City Library

Zale switched the phone from one ear to the other. Effie explained, "I'm not asking you to go alone. We have Daren as the primary instructor. You remember him, right?"

"Of course. He's helped me out a number of times. I'd be happy to help him out," Zale said, brightening up at the mention of his acquaintance.

"Yes, well, he'll be the instructor. You'll be working with him. You'll be kind of like...uh...Well, you should come to the office anyway, so we can talk about the details then, yeah? Get some paperwork sorted out and all. Let's say, after lunch at 1 P.M.?"

Though her chipper voice lifted in a question, Zale knew it was not an invitation but an instruction. He was to be at the office by 1, no questions asked, assuming he wanted to keep his job. Of course, he wanted to. "Of course. I'll be there."

"Great!"

She hung up quickly, and Zale felt suddenly exhausted. He checked the time on his phone. Only 9:30 A.M. He slumped and shook his head. "She���s something else," he mumbled.

With plenty of time before work, he considered his options. Staying in his apartment alone felt too heavy. The park would be too hot soon. That left Starbucks. He set off at an idyllic pace. The cityscape did little to block the sun as it rose overhead. Zale relished the light, but soon felt the burden of the heat as he walked. His eyes caught a glint of light off the window of the city's public library, and he felt compelled to stop along the way.

Unlike the monstrous place he'd visited in his coma, the city library was in a sad state. The once new office chairs, soft red carpet, and polished hardwood tables were now dingy and scuffed. The seats were old and empty. The shelves were only a couple of feet taller than Zale, and the selection of books, though readable, was lacking.

He browsed the shelves and ran a hand along the spines of the equally old and worn books. A disturbing sense of nostalgia filled him. Zale quickly pulled his hand away and shook it as if it had fallen asleep.

He continued through the shallow shelves, eyes glazed as they mindlessly scanned for something attention-grabbing. He made it down one row, around the corner, and down another. He went from one corner of the library to the next, his thoughts on his coma experience rather than the myriad colored books on the shelves. Suddenly, he froze like a statue. His eyes trained on the spine of a single book, and he felt a powerful pull. The urge to reach out to the book felt as natural as breathing.

At first, Zale stood in the aisle with the book in hand, turning it over with a puzzled look. Then, he opened the book and was stricken. His eyes didn't see what was written in the book, but instead, superimposed onto his vision, was the text of another book. He blinked several times and rubbed his eyes, but the result was the same. In his hands was a familiar volume from his coma.