He had time. It was one thing to pile on books, take in as much of the word as one could, but for Joseph the real gift is finding the book that is actually worth the time read. He sifted through harsh romances, and snarled at the state of modern literature; though in essence a novel cannot really be as strong if the writing is matched underneath a hundred and sixty characters per paragraph. Depth—the world had lacked it for its entire current state of mind. Joseph was rarely shocked by it; though why bother if the hero of society is a zombie waiting for a vampire to marry her?
The muscles in his face could barely lift a smile as his eyes graced the covers of torn paperback novels, bent out of shape hardbacks, frilly comic pages—satisfaction was not among the selection today! Joseph’s face tight, stern, serious as he allowed a finger to trail along the shelf, slowly feeling the fuzz from the rambled pages of an uncovered book. His breath rather heavy as his body stood there, the visitors two shelves over could barely hear him amongst the quiet of the library.
Unnamed. It was an item that had not been touched in a long time. Its binding quivered as his hands worked to shuffle it out; the dust lifting off, staring at the man freeing them from their home in awe. His steps pounded against the floor as he walked to his normal chair. The library practically reserved it for him being such a usual customer of theirs with no late fees on his record. Simple rewards make anyone happy.
He twisted, arched his back upward as he sat in his spot, inching over and over to get the most comfortable position. Joseph was not a man to sit in an awkward position in a chair. A perfectionist needed everything exactly to their liking, and Joseph was no different. As he finally leaned back into his chair and crossed his legs, the pages began to open to the first few magnificent words of his novel. Wondrous because Joseph had picked it himself, and he was rarely wrong about gut instincts.
“She needed her prescription; everyone needs their prescription…” The words jumped around in his tongue as he processed them for a moment. How much more modern can a book become? Everyone needs their prescription. The words looped over in his head as he thought of the red pill he took today and the green he would have to take later on that evening. Four, five, maybe six prescription bottles sitting quietly on his kitchen counter at his home with a bottle of water right next to them because his throat could never handle swallowing such large sized objects.
He walked the parking lot, a knife held firmly in his hand it scratched and mingled with the bricks. His arms stretched out far to rip open the doors, Joseph could see the blood drizzling form his hands, though the man wasn’t bothered by the insignificant. The rest of the library had not stopped to look at the entity before them. He walked up to the counter, the assistant a rather kind woman; her voice perked up the lights as she spoke, “how may I…” she muttered. The man hadn’t let her say much as his arms thrust inward towards her, stomach starting to bleed profusely. The Library had done nothing, save for maintain their normal business of life.
Joseph watched, though too afraid to do anything, as the man had left the doors with his knife, humming whatever tune he had rolling around in his head. The book lay in his hands as he watched the woman writhe on the ground, still managing to say, “how may I help you?”
She needed her prescription; everyone needs their prescription.