To Keep the Beast Away
Rune’s fingers ceased their slow, rhythmic tapping. His thoughts had carried him away from the poem he was reading. Rubbing his eyes, he was surprised to find them aching. As he tried to resume reading, the lines blurred and twisted and overlapped. What was the time?
“Sir?”
The librarian’s voice came from her desk, hidden behind shelves. Its sound was weighed down by tiredness, hollow as if disembodied. The Swedish man played with the thought for a second — a ghostly librarian gliding through the shelves, watching readers.
“We’re closing in half an hour.”
He snapped out of his reverie, his head jolting up, his eyes following reluctantly, but he had to know, he had to look. Outside the window was a solid black wall.
