Once you started visiting the local library, you imagined the books would be the sole object of your attraction. Not the librarian, a woman your age that observes everyone crossing the threshold of the entrance with unnerving precision and always gives the best book suggestions.

Surprisingly, her area of expertise lies in romance works. The slower the burn and sweeter the love, the better.

That was the first crack she allowed you to see. Then came more as you stopped tucking yourself into a corner and started lurking around her, finding every possible opportunity to initiate small talk—hushed, of course. Both of you know better than to disrupt the other people visiting.

“You ever think about leaving this place?” Your question hangs in the air. Mikasa's breath hitches faintly, but her voice doesn't waver as she responds. “Sometimes. But then someone always walks in and makes it feel like home again.”

Her own words hang in the air for a second or two. The silence on your end causes her hands to get a bit clammy, but you're biting back the most proud grin known to man. "Someone?"

Mikasa quickly averts her gaze. “You ask too many questions.”