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“And who said I read the books?” she retorted, showing off her own teeth as she smiled. “I’m an archivist, not a librarian. Collecting books is a very different passion from actually reading them.”
She was a bookworm. A book hoarder. A book dragon. A library troll. She was a bibliophile.
She was in love. In love with this library. In love with this space. All she needed was a warm cup of tea, a good blanket, and some fuzzy socks, and she was sold.
“A book can take you somewhere,” she quoted as she tried to pick a place to start. Where could she even start? Was there a proper place? Should she ask him for a tour of the shelves? What was his organization strategy? Did he follow any pattern? “A bookshelf can take you anywhere. A library can take you everywhere.”
Somehow, she almost appeared... glittery, which was absurd, because glitter was actually evil, and she would never use glitter.
