“Alethia,” she says, forcing herself calm though she feels as if she’s falling in midair, “you know what I am.” Alethia blows out another lungful of smoke. In the hallway, someone unlocks their door and shuts it. Alethia keeps still until the hall has gone quiet again. “Yeah, I know. I just wish I could see who.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” Alethia taps out the ashes straight onto the coffee table and refills the pipe. “Who are you, Seshet-without-a-number? Who would you be if you weren’t Director Librarian? Who could we be, together?”
