The library greeted them like an old friend—familiar, still, and filled with a kind of silence that didn't feel empty. Just calm.
Noel walked behind the front desk, flipping the switch that powered on the little desk fan. It gave a soft hum, circling warm air lazily as it turned.
He dropped his backpack beside the chair, rolled up his sleeves, and grabbed the small green rag folded neatly on the shelf.
"I'll start with the shelves," he said.
His dad was already unlocking the catalog drawer. "Take your time. No rush today."
Noel nodded, already stepping into the first aisle.
The books stood like quiet companions, some leaning slightly, others pushed too far in.
The old floor groaned under his weight, the sound oddly alive, like the library itself was keeping him company.
He wiped the top of each shelf slowly, careful not to disturb the way the titles stood like soldiers in uniform.
Somewhere in the far corner, a child giggled—probably from the children's section.
