Marco paced around the lone shelves. He carefully arranged the books that laid upon them.

Ordering them to perfection not missing one. He would occasionally peek out from the shelves to catch of glimpse of you.

He longed to just see a fragment of your existence. In his eyes you were the entire meaning of perfection. He hated the days when you wouldn’t step through those glass doors.

He paused listening to the doors opening. He rushed to the corner taking a deep breath.