Little Library

Journal excerpt from “Wintering in the Twenty-Second City,” author unknown, late 8th Cataclysm

BY EVANART | EVAN ROBERT MILLER

Every time I stop by the Little Library off Glenwood Avenue, those same furry creatures appear in the windows. They watch me and my bike with curious eyes and twitching ears, observing my every move as I replenish the box’s supply. Their attention wanders only when the occasional pod of cylinder whales glides by.

While lately the snowfall hasn’t been as heavy as previous tri-winters, the environment is still quite inhospitable out here. I can hardly blame the residents for wanting to stay inside. The interior of their home radiates with such warmth and life, the lush flora they tend to inside those brick walls must be all they need to survive. Well, that and the company of those endearing little ones of course.

As elusive as the building’s human tenants may be, the contents of this Little Library have nevertheless been picked through and dog-eared each time I stop by. Who ventures out to browse its pages? When do they momentarily abandon their refuge to borrow from the latest catalog?

I may never know. But I’ll keep dropping by with a new stack each month regardless. At the very least, it’s good exercise.