Hundreds of books tower over my head, and I want to scream. Why can’t I just get out? All the books sitting there so serenely, as if life was a picture and all anyone had to do was walk by, never thinking twice. The windows are closed, but it makes me shiver anyways, I rush to the doors in hopes that something will open, but the greasy door knob stops my attempt. Why did I have to be stuck in a library? The computers were all turned off (trust me I checked), my phone had died coincidentally, oh and did I forget to mention I was stuck in a library! I just wanted to go home. I thought about yelling, but it wouldn’t do any good as far as I was concerned, and then I would have to explain how I got stuck in here in the first place. That would take way too long. I decided to try reading. I had not opened a book in so long, my friends would be laughing at me if they saw. Thank god they weren’t here. To be honest the titles were so hard to read, I sat on the ground instead. Who knows how long it was before I heard the high-pitched creak of the doors opening. Next to me were three books, scattered. I’m not sure if I tried to read them, or had used them as pillows, but I shoved them under a bookshelf and ran. Down the stairs, tumbling over my sleepy legs, racing for the door. The outside air was a gloomy gray, and the morning wind bit my nose in disgust, but I smiled. I had escaped the stupid library.

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