Golden Thursdays at the Library

I started going to the library every Thursday at three because that's when the light hits the

reading room just right. Golden and warm through those tall windows.

I wasn't looking for anything except silence and maybe a good book. She was always there.

Same corner table. Always sketching in the margins of her notebook. I noticed her hands

first. The way they moved across the page like they were having a conversation with

the paper. We never spoke for months. Just existed in the same space.

Her with her drawings. Me with my books. But there was something comforting about that consistency.

Like we were both part of some unspoken agreement to just be. One Thursday she