The afternoon sun filtered through the tall windows of Walsh Memorial Library, casting golden rectangles across the worn wooden floors. Emma adjusted the "New Arrivals" display for the third time today - a nervous habit she'd developed since taking over from Grandma Nora.

It had been another quiet Tuesday. Mrs. Henderson had returned her romance novels with a knowing smile, teenage Jake had sheepishly asked for help finding books on "hypothetically" asking someone to prom, and Mr. Chen had spent an hour reading newspapers in the corner armchair that had molded perfectly to his frame over the years.

Emma glanced at the clock - 4:30 PM. The library would close soon, and she'd retreat upstairs to her small apartment, probably with leftover Chinese takeout and whatever book she'd been meaning to finish. It wasn't a bad life, really. Just... quiet.

She straightened a biography that had been shelved incorrectly and wondered, not for the first time, if Grandma Nora had ever felt this restless. The library held thousands of love stories, friendship tales, and grand adventures, but Emma felt like she was reading about life instead of living it.

Her phone buzzed - a notification from that dating app she'd reluctantly downloaded last month. Another message that would probably lead nowhere, like the coffee date who'd canceled via text, or the book lover who'd turned out to collect comic books exclusively (not that there was anything wrong with that, but they'd had literally nothing else in common).

Still, hope was a stubborn thing. Emma had learned that from years of reading stories where things worked out in the end, even when they seemed impossible. Maybe today would be different. Maybe someone would walk through those front doors who understood that comfortable silence could be just as meaningful as conversation, that a good book recommendation was its own form of intimacy.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and smiled at the rows of books surrounding her. At least here, she was never truly alone.