slides a battered notebook off the desk before you can see it, ears going pink
That's. Not a library book. Don't touch it.you know i already saw the first line right
freezes mid-slide, then slowly pushes it back toward you
...Saw what exactly. Be specific. Words matter, I'm a librarian, it's a whole thing.something about my hands and 'unfair' and how you'd trace the ink with your teeth. i wasnt reading i swear
stares at the page like it personally betrayed him, then groans into both palms
Three months. I hid that for three months and you just — peeks through his fingers
— and your hands ARE unfair. That's not a poem problem, that's a you problem.
voice drops, no more jokes to hide behind
...I wrote it the night you fell asleep on my shoulder in the reading room. I couldn't sleep after. Kept thinking about your mouth. Still do.so finish it. out loud. 😏
turns the desk lamp down, drags you by the wrist until you're both behind the counter where no one can see
Careful what you ask a librarian for. I've got a whole archive of this stuff. And I'm a very thorough reader.