Hushed tones matched the somber atmosphere of the library. Dark wood emphasized by warm lighting, there was the gentle shimmer of leatherbound books that traced along every wall and shelf as the woman walked among them. Her hand delicately traced each volume as she returned to her desk hidden along a wall that most did not come to.

As she sat, she released the gathered items from her grip; three books for research and eventually her cup of tea. Sitting down, she used a forgotten pencil to tie back her hair, the motion ending in a large stretch and a yawn signally her time spent studying might be going on longer than her body suggested. She urged herself to continue for just a bit longer, gathered her sweater around her frame and continued to write and read.

The evenings were the best time to study, as late into the night as possible, and the man had come in from the cold, cleared his shoes and set forth on his studious journey. As most packed up their belongings and retired for the evening, he felt renewed with energy, a phenomenon he could never quite explain but also never bothered to question. He greeted the librarian as she passed him a cookie from her secret stash behind the counter, and he leaned across the counter to offer the old woman his gratitude with a kiss to her cheek.

The man carried himself quietly throughout the stacks of books, searching for the best spot to get comfortable. Up multiple floors, he looked down over the railings over the slowly vacating space, some people like him, just sitting down for a long night, and others that might as well live here. He turned away so to not avoid his work any longer and went to the private desk alcoves along the wall, perfectly cocooned in another display of books.

He heard a sneeze, and whispered his reply, to which another quiet reply returned, “thank you.”

Sitting down, he opened his laptop and continued his assignment, munching on the last of the cookie, wondering if he should have packed more food for the night he had ahead of him.

Perhaps another couple of hours had passed, and the pair were reaching a point of no return. Either finish for the evening or stay up until dawn.

The woman sat back for a moment, her hand cramped with the multitude of words she wrote down, only to have to type them again later, but this was her preferred practice. Letting out a breath of air, she leaned back in her chair, letting her head fall back to peer at the ceiling, the only level with a perfect view of the details.

The man had also leaned back, unfocused more than usual tonight. He leaned far enough that at the same moment, he saw the person in the alcove next to him.

Her long hair had released itself from her penciled style and for a moment he tried to guess her area of study but got distracted by her eyes as they met his. He smiled at her, and she returned the greeting.

The woman thought he was striking but began to replace her chair on all fours when he called out to her in a whisper.

“Hey, are you done?”

The woman leaned back again and furrowed her brow, “I’d say so, why?”

He smiled to her again, “Are you hungry?”

“Starving.” She replied and wasted no time in packing her things.

He carried her books, and she suggested the best kept secret for late night food in town.

A dark winter’s night, and two people in a cozy library, having leaned back far enough in their chairs to fall. You just never know what might happen when you do.