Sunshine filtered through the semi-transparent oval domed windows, falling upon the quiet library. The walls were lined with bookshelves, decorated with various covers and catalogs, as if countless times were peacefully slumbering within.
In the central area beneath the dome of this library, a young girl who appeared about 18 years old lay on a clean carpet. She had graceful, pure white wings on her back, each feather distinctly visible and occasionally moving as she turned. These were not crude imitations or decorations but a genuine part of her body.
From time to time, she would lightly leap up from the ground, landing on a suspended swing chair, then perusing the book in her hand. When she felt bored or drowsy, she would lean back and fall asleep in that swing chair.
