Never Knew You

Warm light glazed the window sill, spilling forward onto the wooden table. Warm tea, freshly brewed, sat on top of it peacefully, the light it was refracting into my eyes would have been annoying if I didn’t have sunglasses on.

The book in front of me splayed out its pages, wide open, words that were meticulously typed out lay dormant on the paper. The light danced over them all, partly obstructed by a tree, but still shining through the branches like a canvas painting.

I looked around to look at giant shelves of books, all differently colored, and all differently unique.

I sighed in contentment. I loved the library.

It had endless rows of new stories, poetry, and graphic novels to pick from. All from different countries and places that I had never been to before. Some that I haven’t even heard of.

I laced a finger into the warm handle of my tea and tilt it up to my face. Warm liquid gushed down my throat. Earl Gray never tasted so good.

My eyes lazily focus back onto the book in front of me. It wasn’t a book with anything new, that was for sure, just a boring plain protagonist who liked going to the library, reading books, and drinking tea. Surely just substituting for the reader who was mostly likely reading this.

Which I mean, they fit my description well, but I mean, I’m white, with brown hair, hazel eyes, and a pretty lanky body. Here in the United States, that’s pretty much the ‘normal’ type of look, or most common at least. I think.

They too, were also watching their table in the library bloom with golden sunrise light, lightly brushing their hands against the tea cup’s handle. What a coincidence.

Their clothes resembled autumnal colors and themes, the author going so far as to describe a pin on their backpack as a smiling pumpkin.

I had to take a step back. I looked down to my green backpack. It had the same pin, almost down to a T. I then looked back to myself and my clothes, which were varying shades of cactus green and warm oranges and yellows leaning towards orange or green.

I look back up to my book vaguely catching emphasized words of onomatopoeia before hearing them myself.


My head snaps over to look at the loud noise that racked the normal quiet library. I couldn’t see who, in fact, did drop a book on themselves, but I could hear the wince and them curse under their own breath.

A series of ‘Shhhhhhhhhh’ was ushered towards the source and I furrowed my eyebrows.

I try to read my book again, but several interruptions occurred before my eyes even met the edge of the paper. All really odd, and weird.

At the end of the day, I self diagnose myself with main character syndrome.

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