The Eastwood Archives houses a great number of books.

The moment I stepped inside, I was greeted by burgundy carpet underneath the soles of my shoes, decorative furniture and paintings of well-known authors, a comfy reading nook in one corner with plush armchairs and tables, and towering bookshelves that I'm pretty sure require a ladder to reach the uppermost portion.

A library that only exists in dreams.

Rows of rows of literature meticulously organized. The soft rustling of pages paired with the occasional whispering of a few readers who already settled in. It was just past four o'clock with the afternoon sunlight seeping in through the large windows.

"You look new here. May I help you, dear?"

I was instantly pulled out of my thoughts when someone spoke beside me. A woman in her middle age smiled kindly, a pair of cat-eye framed eyeglasses resting on the bridge of her nose. I suddenly felt conscious, gripping the strap of my shoulder bag.

Maybe this isn't a good idea, after all.

What was I even thinking? I know I've always had a penchant for adventure, but even this is a bit too much for me.

"I... I came here to look for a book," I answered honestly, remembering that book review assignment I had due next month. "I just moved in a few days ago so I figured it would be nice to check out the library."

The woman, who I now realized was the librarian, nodded and led me to her desk. If anything, she looked delighted to have a new patron at this library.

"A transferee at ECU?"

I nodded.

She smiled. "You know, one of my sons is studying there. He's taking a degree in engineering. His older brother graduated just last year."

"Ah," I didn't know how to respond to that information. A moment later, the librarian, started asking titles I had in mind. When I couldn't think of any, she asked my preferred genres and gave some recommendations.

"Enjoy reading, Ms. Suarez! If you need any help, I'll be more than happy to assist you."

She bid me goodbye and proceeded to entertain the other people who walked towards her desk. I can only nod and quickly walk away, not wanting to embarrass myself anymore. Well, I lied when I told her I couldn't think of any book titles.

In reality, I don't read books.

I know this might come across as an odd trait, especially when girls my age usually read as a hobby. I'm at fault here, since I have the attention span of a potato. I often fall asleep after finishing a page or two, especially when the author uses so many words to describe something. Sometimes I also find it frustrating when I have to pull out a dictionary just because I can't understand a word, especially in classic literature!

Then again, maybe it's just me.

'So, I have to wait here 'til midnight?' I thought to myself before grabbing a random novel from a shelf. It was a fantasy novel, something I wouldn't normally pick out in a crowd of paperbacks.

And since I dislike the idea of sitting with other people at the reading nook or at the designated study lounge, I resorted to just sitting on the floor and flipping through a few pages.

I don't know how long I stayed in that position. The silence is something I've been avoiding for a long time now, especially during nighttime. I am left alone with thoughts, memories, and emotional wounds nobody else can see.

Six months ago, I spent my days watching Netflix, going out on dates, and planning the future with the boy I've loved since high school...

Now what? I made a spontaneous decision to move to another town, get away from the heartache and from my parents, and transfer to another university just one year shy of graduating from my degree program. Here I am inside the public library, following the trail of rumors about a ghost who appears at midnight.

"What a downgrade."

I sighed, pulling my knees close to me as I hugged them. I pulled out a notebook from my bag. I might as well proofread that essay I wrote for my English class later because I doubt I can get past a couple of pages without feeling sleepy. I have nothing else to do anyway.

'I hate feeling like this.'

Another flip of the page and I can feel the tears stinging in my eyes, a single drop staining the tanned paper.

In the silence of the library, nestled between the shelves of fiction and non-fiction, I allowed myself to be consumed by the sadness I've been reigning in for so long. Funny how I never even cried after the breakup or even when I moved here to live on my own. I never cried at appropriate times. I refuse to shed a tear right after a tragedy, knowing I'd only end up pitying myself again.

All this time, I've always told myself "I got this", and I'll do so even with tears in my eyes.

*

Waking up with a stiff neck to my alarm clock only meant one thing: I accidentally fell asleep inside the library.

'What time is it?'

Glancing at the screen of my phone, I realized it was already five-thirty in the morning. I immediately scanned my surroundings, the last bit of night overruled by the distant sunlight in the sky. I was still sitting on the floor, back against the bookshelf. I mentally cursed myself for falling asleep in such an uncomfortable position, feeling the puffiness of my eyes from crying last night. If anyone asks, I'll just say I have sore eyes so I can have an excuse to wear sunglasses later.

Not that anyone cares.

Just how long did I sleep?

Yawning, I decided to just drop by the apartment to take a shower first before classes started. This is a stupid idea and I knew I shouldn't have even gone here. Even if I did encounter a ghost in the library, what am I gonna do with it? I'm not a psychic nor do I have a spirit board with me.

"For all I know, the ghost might even be an evil spirit," I told myself and shuddered at the idea.

I guess we all make stupid and rash decisions sometimes we immediately regret the following day.

So imagine my surprise while I was picking up my possessions from the floor and I spotted a lone chocolate chip cookie neatly placed beside my notebook on a tissue. Upon closer inspection, the tissue paper also had something written on it:

Hello, Sleeping Beauty!

Nice essay! I agree with your analysis on the subject. Pineapple on pizza has been a debate among food connoisseurs for ages. I wouldn't be surprised if an all-out war breaks out one of these days.

I'm sorry for reading it without your permission. You were asleep, and I didn't want to wake you. Plus, your handwriting is quite lovely.

I hope you accept my apologies in the form of a cookie.

A random concerned citizen,
The Library Ghost

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