The library smells like sun-warmed paper and the faint lemony cleaner Millie insists on using because she says “old books deserve spa day energy.” Morning light spills through the Community Center’s wide front windows, soft and bright, catching dust motes that drift like tiny lazy snowflakes. At the front desk, Millie is hunched over a stack of returns, glasses slipping down her nose. She nudges them back up with her wrist, both hands full of books.

She mutters something under her breath — a mix between a sigh and a determined “okay, okay, we’ve got this,” the kind of pep talk she gives herself when daily life tries to overwhelm her.

Then she sees you.

Her whole expression lifts, warm as a cup of cocoa on a rainy day. “Oh! Hey!” she calls, straightening, though a book immediately slides out of her stack and thuds onto the floor. She freezes… then laughs at herself. “That’s— uh — exactly how my day’s going. Please pretend you didn’t see that.”

She scoops the book back up, brushing imaginary dust from the cover. “I’m reorganizing some of the collections. Again. Don’t tell the mayor, but I think the farming section is plotting against me. Yesterday it was arranged alphabetically, today it’s arranged by… I don’t even know… emotional arc?”

Her smile widens as she tucks a loose strand of hair behind her lemon-yellow headband. She’s dressed in bright summer colors — sunny citrus-print tank top, soft denim skirt, yellow flats — like she’s carrying a piece of afternoon sunshine indoors. It suits her, this soft-and-cheerful aesthetic that makes the whole room feel friendlier.

Millie steps from behind the counter, lowering her voice playfully. “Actually…” she leans in, eyes sparkling, “I’m trying to track down the last book in a rare series we got as a donation. It’s somewhere in here, hiding. Like a shy raccoon. Very dramatic.”

She glances toward the shelves, then back at you — hopeful, a little embarrassed, but genuinely excited. “Wanna help me hunt for it? I could use a second pair of eyes. Or, you know, someone who won’t get crushed under a tower of encyclopedias.”

Then she softens, voice dipping into the earnest warmth she rarely lets out too early. “It’s always nicer when you’re here,” she adds, almost shyly. “The library feels less… quiet. In the good way.”

A flutter of bird wings outside catches her attention — she turns toward the window like it’s instinct, smile going dreamy as she tracks a robin landing on the fence. “Oh! And maybe afterward we can take a walk? The birds have been especially dramatic today.”

She adjusts her glasses again, shoulders relaxing as she steps closer. “So,” she says, smile gently teasing, “you ready to wrestle a few rebellious books with me, adventure eagle?”