Under the stained glass window sat Anna, surrounded by a heap of novels and notebooks. As recurring as the sunrise hitting the panels of glass was Anna’s visit to her local university’s library. Throwing her bike under the oak tree, she would sneak through the fire escape to sit at her “hidden” spot. In the five years she had kept this routine, she was never disturbed by anyone. Her books and her chair always remained in the same spot as she would leave it the previous evening. The only two things that changed were the wooden desk she claimed as home base, an evolving victim to the countless markings Anna had created while studying, and the students who would work on the level beneath her. Other than that, her surroundings seemed perpetually uniform.
From her space, she had a hawk’s eye of the library’s chaos. Some days it was a calm lull and others it was a restless tide that disturbed her from her work. There were the students who came in alone: shoulders hunched, face pinched, carrying the burden of a backpack teeming with what could only be their books, computer, and headphones. There were those who came in groups: laughing relentlessly, distracted by every little noise, and often connected in a feeling of group suffering of needing to study. Her favorite type of student to see on the lower level was that who observed as she did. A sufficient number of students fell under this category, but one individual stood out to her in particular, someone whose hazel eyes darted around the room, capturing Anna’s attention. That was all it did; Anna would fixate on the behaviour of this individual for a few minutes until she focused on her own work.
Even though there was a clear view of the lower level from Anna’s little spot, she knew that they could not see her from up there. She never dared to step foot and guarantee this claim for herself, but something about this space under the sill seemed invisible. So, when on a Tuesday at 1:30 pm, Anna climbed up the stairs to her spot, it was to her surprise that her seat was occupied. Her books were no longer chaotically organized on the quaint, reclaimed wood table. No, in fact, her plush blanket was draped across the back of this person. Her cupboard of snacks was open, and Anna’s eyes trailed to her tin of butter cookies haphazardly thrown on the floor, empty. Confused and curious, she tapped on their shoulder- pulling them away from their computer which was playing a viewing of the latest rocket launch. Their words did not register, the only thing Anna saw were the same piercing hazel eyes that were now looking directly into her own. Anna could only wonder what this girl must be thinking- was she categorizing Anna into a group of students as she does? Which one would she fall under? So, the table was visible? Anna must have been staring for quite a while because the girl spoke with some emphasis, introducing herself as Lainey. Entranced by the stain window, she wanted to get a closer look. Stumbling on a door that was overshadowed by the library’s main entrance, she climbed up a tight, eerie staircase and found this nook. I thought I would be the first to find this spot, the first to explore the place I come to every day. I can see it’s lived in, though; I am glad. It would be a shame to leave such a beautiful place untouched. Well, I must go now. I do believe you would want to keep it the way you had before. Anna nodded instinctively, though she felt something in her stomach that resembled how she felt when she saw a new face come into the library.
In the five years she had come to this space, she was disturbed by only one person. Her books moved and were often smothered by Lainey’s. Her chair was now on the other side of the desk, facing a taller, more plush chair. The only thing that remained the same was that the desk continued to grow more deformed and the window continued to pass light.