I crossed my arms and stared up at the massive tree that just casually decided to have a conversation with me. It said I'm inside it. Did it swallow me? My mind was clearly trying to avoid that topic.
Something tells me that if I know more, I won't be able to escape this situation. Like I will be forced into doing something, maybe a librarian job…? Well, honestly, it's a dream of mine, but not in this kind of library.
The joy of watching people's faces break into many faces while reading a book, the superior feeling you get when you hiss at someone being noisy and see them buried their faces in the book they're holding, or the feeling of sitting at the highest seat surrounded by books you love, is incomparable.
Wait… is the reason I love reading because it runs in my veins? Being this… what did he call it again?
I grimaced. As an aspiring librarian, I sure have a poor memory. Or, maybe I was just in denial.
