Open Up

"Open up," the man said through the glass.

     At least I think he said that. The glass is very thick on the doors to the library. I was attaching a sign saying "The Library Will Begin Curbside Service on Monday, June 1. Please calle 336-4BANLIB for an appointment."

     The man slammed his fist against the glass. I raised my eyebrow.

     "Open up," the guy said. He seemed angry.

     I mouthed the words, "Read the sign, bitch," without saying "bitch" because professional.

     I waited. He read the sign, outloud. I think. He used his lips a lot.

     He hit the glass again. "Open the library!" 

     I heard him that time. Pretty clear. So I said, "Sorry, read the sign, bitch," but without the "bitch" and pretty quiet because professional. Maybe a silent bitch.

     He stepped away. I walked away because I had library stuff to do inside. Stuff with books and stuff. You get it.

     I stood at the circulation desk. The library felt wrong. Very empty and blank. Quiet and empty. At night, when the stacks grow dark and shadows full, this is a comfort. An empty space just for knowledge and belonging. But in the day with the computers empty things do not seem to belong. I sigh because the world has grown empty without people.

    Then the phone rang. I let it go to voicemail because it says that the person who gave the number is not that into you. Then it rang again. And again. I picked up the phone and answered.

     "Open up the library. I need to use the bathroom," the man from outside shouted.