The Library For Everyone

He walked to the grand library as he did every day. Inside, people read silently, with the same pace, the same posture, the same expression… all uniform, all inevitable. They greeted him with a smile and a nod.

His hat slipped from the table. “Excuse me,” he muttered to the woman next to him, bending to pick it up. His eyes caught her book. Written there, plain and unassuming, were the words:

“…will buy a red-dotted black dress, a Vict…”

He looked away, returning to his own reading.

Later, during a break, he stepped outside for a walk. The woman had gone, leaving only the echo of her presence. As he sipped coffee, he spotted her down the street, with a red-dotted black dress and Victorian hat.

Bored by the monotony of his thick, repetitive book, an idea struck him: What if I tear the pages?

He began, carefully at first, ripping one page after another. The subtle shuffle of paper drew glances. At first, disapproving. Then, sharper. By the time he had torn half the pages, the readers’ eyes were dark with anger.

Still tearing the pages, until only the last page remained: The End