Warning by Jess Moody

For the last three days they have been aware of each other, glances flashed between the turn and rustle of a page.

Down the long wooden bench, the green-glass reading lamps prevent a direct line of sight. But with a slight stretch – for a pencil, to the ceiling – their faces come into each other’s view. They both like what they see, but the heavy hush of the library mutes their confidence. This is a place of minds, not bodies.

Thursday, and the good fortune of a crash. Somewhere in the stacks a fumbled fall and over-loud curse startles the silence. Still gripping their pages in protection, they meet each other’s eyes in amused reassurance.

Two embarrassed smiles, as if to say, “finally”.

The one, nervous to keep the interaction, gestures across at the clean, heavy tome flat in front of the other: nods the innocent question one reader asks of another.

With a mock-apologetic grin, the other tilts up their book, revealing the cover: bright clouds and lego-paint containers announce Baatz’ Maritime Law.

Back down the table, a smile disintegrates.

Slowly, a small hardback is raised.

Virginia Woolf. To the Lighthouse.

They both sit for a long time with the truth.

Eventually they each pack away their things, to return day in and day out, heavy with their knowledge.

For these two, there can be only ever be a watchful gaze.

They must keep a safe distance from the rocks.

………………..

Jess Moody is a Wulfrunian in London, who likes her words and worlds on the weird side. Fiction in Lunate, Reflex, Storgy and Ellipsis.

Twitter: @jesskamoody