A soft, warm light shone onto a cosy corner, hidden by a vast array of books. On a table, eight piles of neatly arranged books were constantly losing or gaining a book. Aside from the comforting stream of unbroken silence, the low, continuous rustle of pages filled the surrounding corner.
The culprit of the constant flipping, with barely a break in between, was sitting on one of the plush sofas. Her clean, but distasteful and rough appearance was a blemish on the otherwise perfect scene.
The young, well-dressed, sophisticated librarian would turn to her from time to time, a flicker of discontent in his eyes.
His eyes narrowed with a faint hostility laced with arrogance. He always managed to find the girl, no matter how inconveniently the bookshelves and their chaotic contents seemed to stand in his way. Alex could feel the librarian's hostility directed at her, but her stoic expression remained unchanged.
