The library was a gloomy place, with high ceilings and dull lighting. Cracked brown linoleum covered the floors. Heavy tables, chairs, and bookcases were all dark wood. On the tables were reading lamps with green glass shades that looked like large green mushrooms. Paintings of old-fashioned-looking men with whiskers like Brillo hung on purple walls. The few adults sitting there were reading, though one guy was already asleep. The place had as much life as a funeral parlor.
