The Library
Racing to the door to escape the heavy onslaught of rain, a young woman entered the library with a shiver, politely lowering her hood which had kept her hair dry. She uttered a heavy yet relieved sigh, reveling in her surroundings—the beautiful comfort of the library, with its tall doors and desks of mahogany; its floors of wood; its romantically bright lamps.
Yet, most of all, she loved the Reading Corner. Automatically, she walked towards the rows of books, heavenly books, whose aroma—the aroma of crisp, printed pages—filled her senses, urging her to delve into one of such books and fulfill her yearning to read. She reached the coveted area; its enticement need be described. It was truly like a separate room which one entered through aforementioned mahogany doors, though these doors were at all times kept open. One was instantly greeted by warmth emanating from a luxurious fireplace, radiant and inviting. The flooring here was carpeted, giving the room and even more cozy appeal. The walls—they were simply wonderful. On one, resided an intricate map of the world. On the others, hung velvet draperies.
The woman stepped into this sanctuary and immediately seated herself on a pliable couch, one of three, and there was also an armchair, and situated in the middle was a fair-sized coffee table. She was alone, but was kept company by the roaring flames of the fire, and of course, the several books she had acquired whilst meandered briefly about the "Classics" section. She loved a good classic, especially one involving romance. Particularly one involving romance. She loved it almost as much as coming to the Reading Corner on a rainy day.
