I don't want to see you any more." She hesistates as she turns away then adds quietly, "i'm sorry."The door closes silently as I stand a gape, flacid and cold. I wept as I put my pjs on and cry myself to sleep. The early morning dawn wakes me un-rested and still sobbing. I silence my alarm and go into the kitchen to start coffee for myself. I check my phone for the millionth time and then call her. The phone rings once then is sent to a computer message that makes it clear she blocked me. I walk to my kitchen window over looking the street three stories down and collapse to the cold tile floor. I cry until there are no more tears. My coffee is cold and my work has called three times looking for me. I type out a text to my boss and go into the bedroom. A few hours later there's a knock on my door. Ignore it. They knock again. And again. Eventually the knocking turns to pounding and after a few minutes the door is kicked in. A fire fighter pushes the door open and calls out into my. Brady left the library. The town’s prettiest University employee walked down the street with me casually following close behind her.Don’t ask me why, but for some reason I always believed beautiful women and rare books belong together. Based on that assumption alone I thought Mrs. Brady worthy of a second glance.The security guard had given Mrs. Brady a perfunctory once over as he looked in her purse and then opened her briefcase. I noticed she held an oversized textbook under her arm. Innocent enough for a librarian I suppose and the security guard must have thought so as well as he didn’t bother to inspect the textbook beyond a cursory glance at the cover.As the lady had access to the one room to all the rare books I wondered if I had just stumbled on to how Mrs. Brady stole the place blind. The librarian had access to the rare books and everyone thought her above suspicion. No doubt most men were too busy admiring her body to think the lady might possess a decent brain in her.
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