Madeline’s POV
I walk into the library, the shocking warmth startling my pale, flushed cheeks.
I observe students, children, and parents alike scattered around the aisles. Each individual handling a book or two in their arms gently. Tall shelves separating each twist and turn, nearly hiding the massive staircase leading up to… more books.
I set my coat down, feeling like a foreigner amongst active intellectuals. Everyone is preoccupied with an activity and I stick out like a sore thumb.
Well, why not do something about that?
I can practically hear my psychotherapist’s advice. I skim through the aisles until I reach the “young adult” section. In all honesty, I have no idea what I’m searching for.
What could I possibly learn about my cousin or myself in a public library?
I trail my hand against the polished wood bookcase. The strange sense of unbelonging conflicting with faint emotions.
What if this isn’t the first time I’ve been here.