8

S he wandered the halls cautiously, never the same path. She paused for a moment as she came to a new door to inhale deeply—perhaps steeling herself for what new wonders awaited her beyond it? Her small, unmarred hand reached out and her delicate fingers wrapped lovingly around the ornate brass handle; the mechanism clicked open at her touch, allowing her to push through.

The light filtered through the colored glass windows, illuminating the motes of dust that began to dance through the air as the space that had gone so long unexplored welcomed her into it. She laughed, an exhilarating sound that pierced the silence of the space, and rushed forward.

The books that lined the walls ranged from masterpieces untold to handwritten diaries of those who had come before her, stories of great adventures, poetry, Bibles, historical texts, and discoveries unknown— all awaiting her. The shelves reached the full height of the impossibly tall ceiling of the space, made of a dark, smoky wood that still inexplicably smelled of the forest it had been cut from. A commanding desk in the center of the room held space for many such stories to be poured over in earnest, oil lanterns always set aglow to read, even in the daylight.

Her fingertips tickled the spines as she read the titles, eyes wide and excited. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips as she mouthed the names aloud breathily to herself. The life she breathed into each new crevice was vibrant and enticing. She removed a leather-bound book with gilded pages and settled in the dark green settee in the corner of the room by the windows facing the garden. Stepping out of her shoes, her skirts draped haphazardly about her as she lifted her knees to rest the book against them.

This room became one of her favorites.