Glut

Isaac had once thought that there was too much shelving going up in the study. Seeing box after box of his partner’s books being brought in started him thinking that maybe, just maybe, they’d need some free-standing units to go in the middle of the room.

“You’re -sure- you need all these books?” He asked, draping himself over a box with ‘Mythology’ scrawled along the top in marker pen.

“Quite sure.” Juan smiled, the man in his element as he wheeled in further boxes by way of a trolley. The contraption had three joined wheels on to make it easier to move up the stairs. “Could you move that box over to the shelves away from the window, please?”

With a groan, Isaac hefted the boxed books across. His bleach-blonde tufts of hair were slick with sweat from the move. “I could buy you an e-reader, and re-buy as many books as are available?”

His partner laughed, a wave of his hand levitating a book up and opening the pages. “I cannot quite interact with ebooks as I can with the real thing. Some may consider this a glut. I? Well… there are many more I seek to pick up.”

“I’d put the book down and help out with moving if I were you.” Isaac warned. “If the girls catch you slacking off with your nose between pages, you’ll have hell to pay.”

“True.” The scholar replied, returning the book to its box before wandering over. “There’s time to sort and order them once we’re all settled here.”

The Librarian

(Author’s Note – Three Words of the Day in use in this story: Unbeknownst, nebulous and chockablock.)

The library had long since closed for the evening, the readers and staff having departed for home not long after each other. Piles of books sat nestled in the return shelves, ready to be restocked. They always were come morning, though the reason for that remained unbeknownst to the staff. One always assumed another had done it, it was the easy answer.

In the darkened corridors, a nebulous form drifted along. In a neat single line behind it a parade of books followed, zipping off into their spaces when the spirit floated past. It made its lap, delivering via Dewey before returning to the piles.

An ethereal hand lingered fondly over one such pile, a finger running down the spines of the books before making a curious little gesture. The books rose up and into formation behind the spirit, and it made another sweep of the library. Hour after hour passed, diminishing the formerly chockablock returns section.

As the first ray of sun peered into the library, the ghost vanished with a satisfied smile on its face, ready to rest before another night of sorting and tidying.