The Day I Fell Asleep In the Library
The day I fell asleep in the library I missed the bus to Chinatown. Fortunately, my ex-lover who I hadn’t seen in a year was lounging by the pool adjacent to the library, and he waved me over and took me out to lunch. But lunch soon drifted into dinner as the sunny sandwich shop gradually hung colored lights, and beers began to pop up around the elevated tables.
I was glad to have missed that bus to Chinatown.
By midnight the lunch-turned-dinner restaurant had turned again into a bar, and just as I sent vibes of applause to the institution for its multifaceted approach to dining, a group of my friends rolled through the door in a messy ball of flying limbs and uncontrolled speech. They sat with us and ordered fancy drinks; they had rehearsed their liquid desires enough times already that night that they could string them along like an extended monologue.
They didn’t know I was with my ex-lover; they didn’t know who he was, and when I tried to explain, they laughed away my words and turned to each other’s ears to whisper comments concerning nail polish and lanterns and everything irrelevant to the present.
But then I noticed one of my friends in the corner, crying silently but genuinely, and I reached into her blue eyes with mine, asking her what I could do. Are you okay? What’s wrong? What happened? By the way, that’s my ex-lover, and you all should know. Why won’t they listen to me?
But she only responded, “No… no, no. No!” And she slumped out of her chair and rested quietly within the comfortable bounds of two walls and the floor. So I left her to rest.
And still, I was glad I missed that bus to Chinatown. The stool beside mine was filled with my ex-lover instead of the dangerous reminder of too much time spent alone. And for a moment I forgot the ‘ex’ in ‘ex-lover’ and wondered…
Until I woke up in the library.