You walked in the library on a rainy day, the clouds above loomed over the small city. People were littered around the library, their heads down in their books, but a particular man caught your eyes.

There sat a man on a small, grey couch alone, his eyes glued to the words printed on his book, which he seemed to be infatuated with.

You walked in the section he sat in, attempting to seem inconspicuous as you “searched” for a book, periodically glaring over your shoulder to admire him.