The library smells like old books — a thousand leather doorways into other worlds. I hear silence, like the mind of God. I feel a presence in the empty chair beside me. The librarian watches...

He kissed me for a long moment, holding my shoulders, perhaps to keep me from pressing my whole body against his. Then he tried to lift my bag.”My God,” he said. “What happened?””I found out...

About the library,” he whispered. He took out the pencil stub from his pocket and poised it over the page.”Will you write like Mr. Blake or like yourself?” I inquired.He wrote and whispered the words...

The library smells like old books-a thousand leather doorways into other worlds.””Dear sir, I was called away and couldn’t bring you, but now I feel haunted. I know that sometimes you felt I was a...

I couldn’t take my eyes off him. Like a desert wanderer afraid of mirages, I gazed at my oasis, but he was real.