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Kindred

February 27, 2018

Today, I shared the quiet room with a kindred spirit, maybe.

 

Yesterday, a woman kept peeking into the quiet room. First from the front, then she would disappear and come back to the side. Later, she walked right in and toured around like she might buy the place.

 

Today, she came in and rearranged the padded chairs like a cat making its bed - first one way, slight turn, this chair over here, this one close to the wall. She didn't stay long, though, and moved to a table where she sighed dramatically over her laptop.

 

She's a bit of a strange woman, too old to be hanging out in the middle of the day, dressed in a shabby chic hippy ensemble.

 

I say she may be kindred because I scoped the place out before stepping inside too. My first time to the library, I wandered through the stacks as though looking for a particular book but actually casing the place, how it was arranged, what kind of people were there, if there were any quiet places to work. I wasn't as brazen or obvious with what I was doing. I like to blend in to the background.

 

Maybe she's more comfortable with herself. Maybe I should try to make friends. Nah.

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