FernWalters

The following journal is something I wrote up to cleanse my thoughts after rough days on the job. Most of the time, my job as a librarian is a charming one. I help people retrieve information from reliable sources, and I help spark the flames of knowledge. Other days, however, are much more challenging, and I find myself wanting any number of things depending on the problems. More often than not, my good days and reliable patrons get me through, but I feel this journal will help as well. I'll begin at the beginning, of course, when I first arrived at the library and began my work. I was put in charge of the entire teen literature section tha

The scent of coffee fills the air; the murmurs come from everywhere. The line winds back and back and back. "I'd like a cup of coffee, black." A seat by the window, a brown circle; a napkin stained, a book of purple. Words of wisdom, music of old; "I wonder if my mixtape will get sold." Worry, angst, silence, and wonder; the people come and go, they wander. Chime every open, chime every close; the day ticks by. Nothing gets old. I gather my things; I pack my soul. I could return tomorrow, drink coffee black as coal. My schedule is set. I vow to return again. "I'll see you tomorrow, Aaron, Parker, and Gwen."

Darkness falls. I make my last rounds. I find myself alone. I find myself on the ground. Someone dropped something. An item was left behind. I wonder what it is, I think, as I try to define the trinket someone left behind. The figurine sits on my computer monitor's top. I Google the subject, unable to stop. The results are endless, my temple aches. My stomach growls. I sigh. My heart breaks for the trinket someone left behind. The day must end. I sleep on the subject. The trinket remains. I add it to a bucket. This happens so often, those things left behind. I wonder what it is, and I try to define The trinket someone leaves behind. It's a

 I looked out the window to discover that night had fallen while I was writing. I could sense the change in the air, the disappearance of the day's heat as the sun slipped behind the western horizon, but I did not realize what the time was, nor did I care now aside from the smell of delicious foods emanating through the house. In inhaled through my mouth, taking in the meaty aroma. The roast my mother had prepared for dinner was certainly done, and my mouth watered as I exhaled through it, the scent of carrots dancing around on my taste bugs as I imagined eating the dish. My mother called me for dinner, and I stood quickly to eat the deliciou