Let's go to the library

Let's go to the library together. We don't have to read, we can just look at each other in the soft sunshine or listen to the rain next to the window. It doesn't matter. We'd be in perfect quietness, except for the sound of pages turning, footsteps on the wooden floor, and the almost imperceptible sound of dust floating in the air. You’d probably read the Heart is a lonely hunter, or a non-fiction on the downfall of democracy, and I’d be reading Emma again, or A Wild Sheep Chase. Let’s go to Hokkaido, I’d whisper to you. Yeah, who’s gonna drive though? You’re perfumed with irises and musk, saying softly with a bit of a smirk. We’ll take the train and bus, I’d say. We’d be sitting on the sofa, or take two seats next to each other like schoolgirls. You’d pass me a piece of paper, on it it’s a drawing of your silly dog. Well, I’m a cat person. And horrible at drawing. I don’t think that’s why I fell in love with you, but I did and I didn’t do anything about it. We’ll go outside on the terrasse from time to time. I’d drink a can of soda while you smoke. I hate cigarettes but I’ll let you. You’d say that you can’t relate to half of the stories that I tell you because you can’t even fathom things like that happening to anyone. Then you’d hug me and tell me not to make jokes anymore about what used to hurt me, or what’s still hurting me. I know I don’t need to make you laugh, but I still want to. I’d say alright. I’ll fall in love with you again, everything tastes like cream soda. I’ll do nothing about it and we’ll go back to the library.