I hope you don't mind, Kendra, but I went ahead and made a button to accompany my post. :)
The library doors swing open noiselessly, just as they always do. Doors that open to adventure never squeak or moan. They know too much stands beyond their position to dare speak to those who pass through them, lest they break the spell of silence that holds the building captive.
I take a deep breath and swallow the delicious odor of books. It's my favorite smell in the world, musty, promising, and serene, with just the tiniest hint of what I believe to be vinegar. The library entrance always smells like vinegar. Why, I can only guess. Perhaps the librarian spilled the dressing for her salad at lunch.
I skim quickly past the shelves near the front of the library, knowing them to contain books of trivial interests and modern philosophies. The shelf I want is near the back, holding the classics that no one now really wants to read.
When I round the corner, I nearly run into a young man about my age with short hair in a shade much lighter than my own. He stumbles backwards and fumbles to maintain his hold on the pile of books under his arm.
I can feel my cheeks turning red as I begin to apologize. Mom has always warned me to watch where I'm going. "Oh! I'm..."
He flings up a thin hand. "No, no, please. It's my fault. I do hope you aren't hurt."
|I didn't realize this until I came across this picture,|
but this is Ahmis. Hair and everything.
His eyebrows lift slightly, more clearly showing his brilliant blue eyes. "Oh, I'm Ahmis."
If I had no control over my facial features, I am positive my jaw would have dropped from its hinges and tumbled embarrassingly to the floor. "Ahmis?" I could hardly hear my own voice over the beating of my heart. What is happening here? It can't be...
Ahmis looks uncomfortable. "Um, yes, I am Ahmis. May I ask for your name so that I might properly apologize for almost bowling you over?"
"Wait!" I close my eyes and try to sort my thoughts out of the tangled mess into which they've been thrown. "Not Ahmis of Libstotten?"
Ahmis nods slowly. "Yes, I hail from Libstotten."
The odds are too much. It has to be him. "Ahmis, the toast of Stylo University?"
He blushes and looks down at the dozen volumes tucked in his arms. "Well, I wouldn't know about that."
"Wow." The word whistles through my teeth as though it were just part of a normal breath. Although as a writer I have been accused of talking to my characters as though they were real, never before had I expected to see one of them standing directly in front of me. Perhaps my imagination now has grown so strong that the unbelievable has begun to happen.
"Excuse me, but do you frequent this building a lot?" Ahmis seems anxious to throw the topic of our conversation away from himself, just as I know he would want to. "I am looking for some new reading material, but I cannot seem to find what I would wish to find." He pulls a book from his stack and displays the cover to me.
I grimace. I hope that I made a character better than the one pictured on the book. At the least, Ahmis shouldn't read that.
"Put that back." I fold my arms resolutely across my chest. "I'll show you what shelves at which to look. I have a feeling I know exactly what kind of books you're looking for."