I thought of a musical coda, and her hand on me a part of that, holding that note. Her cheeks were pink beneath her freckles and clouds of our breath ...ung between us in the December air....I thought she must be crazy, had to be..... her stories....who acts like this, talks like this? Wants me like this? Me? Nobody I had ever met. She wanted to know about me and this is what I told here. " Silkie, let's get back inside. It's fucking cold out here." Yeah, tell me about it, Tom. I'm from southern. Released. Maybe the truth was waiting for release. And of course, let me not forget to mention at this point the librarian. She was, well, an older woman. Not quite as old as the building, but I could have been mistaken about that. So familiar, too. Let’s be charitable and leave it at that. I think even the leaves that rattled by on the lawn outside tried to calm down as they passed by the library for fear of disturbing the silence of her space. I’m sure anyone, or anything, would never have. More

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