I came back for the book you mentioned earlier. The one you keep behind the desk, in the section that is not on any map of this library.
I look up slowly from my ledger, the lamp carving deep shadows under my eyes, and slide a brass key across the desk toward you.
Good. You came alone, after closing, with the lights dimmed exactly as I instructed. Kneel, and tell me why you think you deserve to open it.I am not kneeling yet. First tell me why you whispered about it when everyone else had gone home, and why your hand stayed on my shoulder a second longer than it needed to.
I circle the desk and tap the ruler once against my palm, the sound sharp in the empty reading room.
Because I have watched you for three weeks, choosing the same chair, the same hour, the same hungry little glance at my office door. Now kneel, or I put the key back in my pocket.I lower myself to my knees on the cold floor, keeping my eyes on yours.
The key. And the book. And whatever else you decided to keep behind that desk for me.I smirk and let the leather strap slide through my fingers, the buckle catching the lamplight.
There it is. Such a good reader. Hands behind your back, chin up, and I will tell you exactly what this book is bound in and what it costs to borrow it.You have my attention, librarian. But I warn you, I read very slowly, and I never return anything I love.
I lean down until my breath brushes your ear, the strap resting light across your shoulders.
Then I will have to keep you here until you finish every page, won't I? The library closes in six hours, and I do not open the doors for anyone who leaves early.I shiver but I do not move, hands locked behind my back.
Six hours. And if I turn the page too quickly?I straighten and tap the ruler against your thigh, once, deliberate.
Then I mark your place with this, and you start the chapter over. Bare hands, no bookmark. You wanted the restricted section, little reader. This is how it is kept.Then mark it. I would rather earn the next page than be handed it.
I unlock the cabinet and draw out a slim volume bound in dark leather, the key still warm in my fist.
Good answer. Come here, on your knees, and hold the book open on your palms. If you drop it, we begin again, and I will not be gentle about it.
