The Library

by Bella Osborne

My name is Tom Harris and I am invisible. Not actually invisible – that would make me interesting and I’m not.

we ate it on our laps in front of the TV. We always have our meals like this. It’s just me, Dad and the TV.

Maybe it was the smell but something made my eyes go all watery. I don’t know if I would ever be able to explain the feeling – like a giant wave of muddled emotions crashing over me. I always felt happy when I came to the library. It was a time I had Mum to myself. It was the thing we always did together. No matter how busy she was we always went to the library and I loved it. I loved her.

She often thought about all the times in her life when she had wished for more time and now here she was with oodles of the stuff stretching out before her like it had all been saved up and paid with interest when she needed it least.

‘It’s a ghost story. It’s not really my thing but that’s why you join a book club. Do you read much?’

But she did like talking to Tom. She was stretching things by describing it as talking. He wasn’t chatty at all but at least any conversation, however brief, wasn’t focused on his bowels or medication, which was a relief.

Living in a hostel in her twenties had been her real low point.

few others came in already mid-conversation about Betty’s constipation.

Maggie rolled her eyes.

The conversation moved on to Audrey’s swollen ankles and her husband’s cholesterol level. Maggie sighed.

Mum used to spend a lot of time with me and my schoolwork. It was only primary school stuff but she took time to sit down with me and practise my spellings and reading. I made out I hated doing it but really I liked having time with my mum. Sometimes I pretended to keep getting the word wrong so I could have a few more minutes with her all to myself.

They were mostly aloof or idiots at the start of the stories but they learned along the way and came good in the end.

There was something oddly isolating about being surrounded by people and yet completely alone.

‘What do you do now?’ he asked. Oh what a question that was. If she were to answer it honestly would he be shocked? I spend my time desperately trying to fill my day until one morning I don’t wake up.

She gave it a sniff. She made a conscious effort that she wouldn’t have that distinct old person pong. She could smell it on a couple of people who came to book club. It was an unpleasant musty scent and she feared the day she couldn’t notice it was the day she smelled like it too.

Book club went well. It was always best when the viewpoints were opposing. It generated a good discussion. When everyone agreed with each other it was a much quieter and shorter session.

I was starting to like Sundays. Usually they sucked. We never did anything. It was a nothing day.

‘We often think of the oddest, most irrelevant things, at difficult times. We seek out the little things we can cope with while we process the things we can’t.’

I could stare at those dogs for hours. Actually I did stare at them for hours. Who needs TV when you’ve got puppies?

‘Friends aren’t merely the tumbleweed of faces that roll in and out of your life. Friends are the ones you connect with and who last a lifetime. You’ll pass a million people on your path and just a few will be worth spending time with.’

It was a shame his father didn’t appreciate him. Didn’t enjoy him as he should but how many parents were exactly the same? Too busy with their day-to-day lives to realise the most precious times would soon be a distant memory. Children were a gift but a transitory one.

‘It’s a terrible thing to lose people you love from your life. The pain is the same however it happens and regardless of who is to blame,’