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Description
The tall shelves surrounded me, each and every one filled with books of different sizes and colours. I looked through them, studying the title of each one to check if it caught my interest - one I hadn't read in a while. Of course, these books were rare. I go to the library often and even though there are more books here than at any other place I have ever seen, I've read almost all of them. So I continue searching the titles, some dusty and hard to make out, until I realise that I had already looked through this section earlier today. In other words, I had gone through the entire selection of my local library and not found a single book that I wanted to read. For me, that is extraordinary - I don't think it's happened before. I feel the need to find the librarian, Ms Anette, who I have gained quite a relationship with, and tell her all about it. Sounds weird - but I help her with all the work that needs to be done here at the library, and we really do get talking as we sort books. She would understand. Anyway, I start looking for her, striding between the towering book shelves to try and spot her. Walking through the library like this reminds me of my first day here, when I was really young. And when I have memories, I don't pay much attention to where I'm going. That's right - I walked straight into a door, and now I have a very sore head. This makes me feel clumsy, and I hate feeling clumsy, but in my self-defence the door doesn't exactly stand out. It's old, and no one has been able to open it for who knows how long. Near it is the only book in the library I have not yet read. Remembering that, I forgive my memories for allowing me to smash into the door. And then I went to retrieve the book, hoping I could just go home and read or something - it's been a long day. At least this time I'm paying enough attention to where I'm putting my feet so I don't have a repeat of my last search and bang into something. Then I happily grabbed the book. It was covered in dust, which filled the air as I blew it, and when I opened it, my high hopes melted. I found the book was blank - nothing but blank pages. I flipped through it, but there wasn't a single mark of ink there. I was quite disappointed, so I started to place it back on the shelf when I heard someone approach me. Before I turned around, they spoke. "Why don't you borrow that book, Iris?" they suggested. Noticing the voice of Ms Anette, I turned around and replied, "I can't. It's all blank."
Ms Anette continued, "But dear, it's never been borrowed before, wouldn't it be special it you were the first?"
"Yes, but I ..." That's when I realised how much she seemed to want me to borrow it. I thought it was a bit strange but I stopped myself and redirected my sentence. "Alright, I'll take it. But just for one night."

When I arrived home - I thought over what I had just done ... Agreeing to borrow an unreadable book? I can't read it at all, and I wouldn't write in it. Ms Anette would get mad at me - it's a library rule that the book you have borrowed must return undamaged and unmarked. So, the only thing I can really do is stare at it - try to figure out what the front cover is supposed to show - perhaps it was written a long time ago, and the ink on the inside has faded, then she could figure out what the story was about by looking at the front cover. The book seemed to be attracting all the dust in the room and now was as dusty as it was when I first got it, so I rubbed off as much as I could until I finally saw a picture form - faded, of course - that appeared to take the shape of a key. Okay, so maybe I was wrong - I have no idea what the story is about. I took a closer look at it, noticing the key had an engraving on the end. I wasn't able to tell what it was, which was bad because it could have been a hint of what the story was about. For some reason, I opened the book again to glare at the pages. It seemed like a good idea at first, but thinking over it I guess I was getting extremely tired and wasn't thinking straight. There was a part of me that was glad I had decided to open to book, though - I noticed the edges of the old paper had tears in it. So strange! I must tell Ms Anette tomorrow ... as soon as I have had a long rest.

Description
The tall shelves surrounded me, each and every one filled with books of different sizes and colours. I looked through them, studying the title of each one to check if it caught my interest - one I hadn't read in a while. Of course, these books were rare. I go to the library often and even though there are more books here than at any other place I have ever seen, I've read almost all of them. So I continue searching the titles, some dusty and hard to make out, until I realise that I had already looked through this section earlier today. In other words, I had gone through the entire selection of my local library and not found a single book that I wanted to read. For me, that is extraordinary - I don't think it's happened before. I feel the need to find the librarian, Ms Anette, who I have gained quite a relationship with, and tell her all about it. Sounds weird - but I help her with all the work that needs to be done here at the library, and we really do get talking as we sort books. She would understand. Anyway, I start looking for her, striding between the towering book shelves to try and spot her. Walking through the library like this reminds me of my first day here, when I was really young. And when I have memories, I don't pay much attention to where I'm going. That's right - I walked straight into a door, and now I have a very sore head. This makes me feel clumsy, and I hate feeling clumsy, but in my self-defence the door doesn't exactly stand out. It's old, and no one has been able to open it for who knows how long. Near it is the only book in the library I have not yet read. Remembering that, I forgive my memories for allowing me to smash into the door. And then I went to retrieve the book, hoping I could just go home and read or something - it's been a long day. At least this time I'm paying enough attention to where I'm putting my feet so I don't have a repeat of my last search and bang into something. Then I happily grabbed the book. It was covered in dust, which filled the air as I blew it, and when I opened it, my high hopes melted. I found the book was blank - nothing but blank pages. I flipped through it, but there wasn't a single mark of ink there. I was quite disappointed, so I started to place it back on the shelf when I heard someone approach me. Before I turned around, they spoke. "Why don't you borrow that book, Iris?" they suggested. Noticing the voice of Ms Anette, I turned around and replied, "I can't. It's all blank."
Ms Anette continued, "But dear, it's never been borrowed before, wouldn't it be special it you were the first?"
"Yes, but I ..." That's when I realised how much she seemed to want me to borrow it. I thought it was a bit strange but I stopped myself and redirected my sentence. "Alright, I'll take it. But just for one night."

When I arrived home - I thought over what I had just done ... Agreeing to borrow an unreadable book? I can't read it at all, and I wouldn't write in it. Ms Anette would get mad at me - it's a library rule that the book you have borrowed must return undamaged and unmarked. So, the only thing I can really do is stare at it - try to figure out what the front cover is supposed to show - perhaps it was written a long time ago, and the ink on the inside has faded, then she could figure out what the story was about by looking at the front cover. The book seemed to be attracting all the dust in the room and now was as dusty as it was when I first got it, so I rubbed off as much as I could until I finally saw a picture form - faded, of course - that appeared to take the shape of a key. Okay, so maybe I was wrong - I have no idea what the story is about. I took a closer look at it, noticing the key had an engraving on the end. I wasn't able to tell what it was, which was bad because it could have been a hint of what the story was about. For some reason, I opened the book again to glare at the pages. It seemed like a good idea at first, but thinking over it I guess I was getting extremely tired and wasn't thinking straight. There was a part of me that was glad I had decided to open to book, though - I noticed the edges of the old paper had tears in it. So strange! I must tell Ms Anette tomorrow ... as soon as I have had a long rest.