She sits in the library, at her table. A single figure on the horizon. Sitting at the MDF frame, coated in sickly toffee coloured plastic. A rumbling can be heard just out of earshot. The scene is broken, the mob enters.
Perfection amongst the chaotic anarchy that surrounds her. Her elegant form a total contrast to the morons around her, pushing and shoving through the packed shelves. Destroying all in their path, not even noticing the beauty around them. Those people who trample on wild flowers while scaling Everest. Achievement is nothing without the journey. Toss another Monet on the fire, we need the heat.
She is not from this place. It is as if she occupies a space and time of her own, ignoring everything else around her. Serenity. Nothing more, nothing less. There is something about her which does not fit here; the way she acts, the way she talks. It is as if she is invisible to others, work of art for my eyes only.
The library is like a tunnel of books from me to her. As if the entire structure was made purely to make me notice her presence. Reading some book, who knows what.
For a moment the books rise high, past the grey drop ceiling, into the sky, until they block out all light. Now only a spotlight is cast upon only her and me. Time slows, the mob draws to a halt and freezes. Everything else fades to sepia tones. All that is left is an instant of time, her and me.
Alone.
Silence, the turn of a page, silence again.
She continues to read. Her deep dark brown eyes tracing the page at a steady speed, no hurry, precision. Each word as important as the next. Time allocated, dedicated to each of their individual intricate subtleties. Butterfly collectors do not exhibit this level of care. It is something more than care, as if each word, each letter, on the page is not a step towards the end of the book but a single moment in time frozen for eternity to be savoured.
When she looks at me it feels as if her eyes are boring into me... as if she knew everything and yet nothing about me at the same time.
Then she looks away.
As do I. The picture zooms out, the world returns to full motion and colour suddenly. I'm embarrassed I've been caught staring, in a little world of my own, what a fool I am...
Red flush, back to work.