(no subject)

[firm_detective]

L is browsing the stacks in the eighth-floor library. Row after row of books on ornate, dark wood shelving -- How long have they been here? -- surrounds him, but he can still see the far-away main entrance to the library from where he stands. He wrinkles his nose at the faint musty scent of the crumbling volumes.

[Thread is private to firm_detective and refractings.]