Today was the first day at your new job as a librarian. Its perfect. It’s quiet, cozy, and everyone is so friendly. Not to mention you’re surrounded by books.

This morning was rather quiet, a few people sat at tables, studying or reading a book, the occasional person approaching to check out a body of work.

It wasn’t until a man walked the through the front door that your attention was stolen from your computer. He was tall, very tall, he had his curls loosely tied back into a messy bun. He’s wearing a pair of brown khakis, black Converse sneakers, and a grey t-shirt with a brown jacket over top.

The man’s gaze searched around the room until he finally found the front desk, where of which you sat, before strolling over and placing a book on the desk.

‘A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man’ by James Joyce. Good taste.

“Hiya, love. I’d just like to return this, please. I’m probably a little late to hand it back.” He says politely, clasping his hands behind his back.