Top Shelf
That was it. The spot. He could see exactly where it went, even if he couldn't read the spines. It belonged right in the gap between the books lazily tilted on their sides. All the way at the top.
With a sigh, he quickly cast his gaze about the stacks. No sign of the step ladder. A pang of frustration began encroaching upon his malaise.
With a mischievous smirk, he turned his attention to his book cart. It was tall enough. It seemed sturdy. It was, after all, empty now that he held the last book in his hand. He cast his gaze about the stacks again. The librarian wasn't anywhere to be seen. Of course not, she was in the office. Reading no doubt, like he would be himself momentarily.
He set the book down on one of the lower shelves and maneuvered the cart until he was satisfied with its position. Up he went. The cart teetered a bit as he scrambled on top. Standing erect, he felt a sudden feeling of elation. Sure, he was only a few feet off the floor, but it seemed like miles. The top shelf barely reaches his chin now. He could see the entire library from his new perch.
He looked down at the cart. The book. He'd left it on the shelves. On the other side of the stacks, well out of his reach. Focusing on the nearby floor was beginning to make his legs shake involuntarily.
The climb down was more hazardous than the ascent. The cart lurched, threatening to topple. His knee banged on the cart's shelves. The final dismount was bumbling and awkward. Sweat had beaded on his brow and his cheeks felt flushed from both excitement and embarrassment.
After a couple deep breaths, he man-handled the cart away from the stacks and began pushing it towards the front desk. The book could stay right where it was. Nobody in his small town was going to read Voltaire, anyway.
No. He turned and retrieved the book. He'd read it.