you move further into the library, looking around. there are books literally everywhere, but it seems like no one has used this library in a long time. everything is neat and orderly. there are no books lying half-open on the tables, no chairs are un-tucked, no lights are on. 

​

the books sit in neat rows, shelf after shelf after shelf. the shelves acsend so high that the ceiling is shrouded in darkness. 

​

there is no dust.

​

you pick another book from a shelf at random, and begin to read. the words seem so familiar, but you can't remember where you've read this book before. tearing your eyes away from the page feels like a physical chore.

​

you walk deeper into the library, thinking another book will help you make sense of this place. you try to look at the names on the spines of the books but your eyes seem to slide right over them.

​

picking up another book, you beging to read. again, the same feeling of familiarity settles over you. 

​

you slip deeper into the thrall of the story.

​

how long have you been standing here reading?

​

you don't remember, but it doesn't matter.