She spent the most beautiful spring day in a library. The tree pollen was high, but not high enough to unleash her from the tree cemetery.
It wasn’t her choice, necessarily. Jahzara was always being seduced by the books, lured by the hardwood floors. The library sucked her in just as she was crossing the street or sipping her latte. It was inescapable.
The alfresco scene held her attention momentarily, a fleeting glimpse outdoors in that gap between Sylvia Plath and Gabriel García Márquez. As the slain trees continued flipping under her thumbs, she briefly considered buying a Kindle. Briefly.