On colder, rainy days, you would stay inside the Foundation’s building. Although you weren’t studying in their school anymore, you’d often find yourself inside the library, scrolling through many, many blocks of books.. All with their own identity, world, and style of writing.

The library had recently added many new books. You were delighted to find many of the classics you had been searching for, and swiftly swept a few from their shelves into your arms, into a stack. As you passed the shelves, you could smell the faint scent of bibliosmia, and the crisp scent of fresh paper mixed in with the petrichor seeping under the library door. It was quiet, except for faint footsteps which you could swore were close by as you walked.. But you just assumed it was someone else looking through books.

“Uh.. Excuse me.. Is that The Picture of Dorian Grey..?”

A small voice queries.. In your palm was a new book. A classic you’ve been searching for in several libraries, but never found. You were excited to find and read it here, this library being the perfect paradise to read in the backdrop of the quiet rain.

Curious eyes trailed over the cover, and you looked to the direction of the voice. Marcus. A colleague, maybe a friend, from inside the Foundation. Under one of her arms was her bookcase, with its intricate carvings, and in the other… A similar stack of books. She looked back up at you, although her eyes seemed to advert every few milliseconds, looking very hesitant to speak. Luckily, you wouldn’t notice her expression from behind her thick, fluffy scarf.