What if we had access to the changes that can occur for each of our choices? What if we knew? What if someone decided to take control?
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Every sunday morning is the same.
*flip* pause.
*lick* *flip* pause.
Multiply this by hours, and sometimes add the company of other flippers.
This quiet symphony is enough.
Anyway, Clo thinks so.
You wouldn't necessarily peg libraries as the pinpoints of the universe. But it seems that's what they are.
Timelines all align in libraries. Whoever was meant to be there will always be there.
It makes for such a relief to those who are plagued by an existence too large for the normative fold.
*flip*
Clo looks up from her pages and notices the sun is rather low, its last rays stretching through the window along the book shelves.
*snif*
Soon, she'll have to leave.
The thought creeps up her spine like a cold centipede.
