She collapsed on her bed with a soft moan, gingerly rubbing at her sore wrists. The new shipment of books had come in that day, accompanied by the large shelves and cases she had ordered, and Maria had spent all day setting everything up. Some liked to claim she had the easiest job in the village, but she cared to differ. There was nothing easy about lifting fifty-plus pound boxes and hauling them about all day, after all.

On these days loneliness often befell her, at a right rapid pace. While it was necessary it be closed for any amount of work to get done, knowing this didn't help ease the feeling. For as much as the mousy young woman loved and dedicated herself to books, she couldn't exactly claim to enjoy being cooped up all day with no one to talk to.

Upon hearing a faint knock at her door, she sunk down further into her mattress, wishing whoever it was would just go away. It was her mother, as she had suspected. The older woman let herself into her daughter's room and made her way to Maria's bedside. All was silent for several moments and the librarian was thankful that she hadn't turned on the lights when she had first come in, as her mother finally sighed and left, assuming her to be asleep.

Knowing she was alone once more, she quietly sat up and groped about in the darkness. Her nimble digits located the object she was after in a matter of moments, and she was able to see again. Turning her attention to the small nightstand beside her bed, she fished out a small flashlight and the novel she was currently plowing through.

Reading far into the night, as she gratefully acknowledged the fact that she had tomorrow -- or perhaps she should say 'today' -- off, she attempted to gather her thoughts into something other than the current jumble before she -- predictably, perhaps -- fell asleep.

The day from hell began bright and early that morning. Apparently her father had seen it fit to file a massive book order of his own, as one had shown up sometime during the middle of the night. Apparently her father saw nothing wrong with bounding into her room just before the crack of down, rousing her from her much-needed sleep. Apparently her father found that she should be the one to unpack all those tedious textbooks and properly shelve and catalogue them, simply because she was the librarian. Apparently her father did not know about all the extra work and over-time she had been doing over the past couple of days, simply to keep up with the books they already had.

So it was with a remarkably embittered state of mind that she had rolled out of bed and wrestled into her usual shirt, skirt, and cardigan. After managing to stomp into her shoes, she lumbered awkwardly down the hall and into the bathroom so she could brush her teeth and do her hair up in its usual braid. Lastly, she grabbed her glasses from her room and gave them a quick wipe down. She fled the house before her mother or father could press some other kind of chore or favor upon her.

Having skipped breakfast, and lunch when it had rolled around, she was exceedingly hungry when she returned home late that afternoon. During the quiet dinner she shared with her parents, the only thing she could think about as she ravenously scarfed down her meal was all that she had done that day. As it turned out, her father had ordered way more than even she had initially believed him to have, and that was saying something. She had spent the majority of the day unpacking everything, with precious little time for anything else.

That was right. What she had initially thought was going to be a single, tiresome day had evolved into what could only be a grueling week's worth of work. And surely her father would see it fit to wake her up as early as he had done that day. It was no surprise when she excused herself from the table and hurried upstairs, planning on heading to bed immediately.

Before she had so much as sat down on the end of her bed, a knock came at her door. Removing her spectacles and rubbing at the bridge of her nose, she managed a quiet, "Come in."

It was her father. No surprise there. She was slightly startled to find him frowning, however. "You didn't finish." It was a stated as a fact, not a question.

"No," She sighed wantonly, wishing for the first time that he would just drop dead. Dead. That's how she felt at the moment, her limbs more exhausted than even her mind. "I didn't."

His frown seemed to deepen, and she found this very uncharacteristic of her father, a generally jovial man. "Why not?" He demanded. Though his voice was the gentle sort of stern, not a cruel anger, she could not help but feel frightened. He had never acted like this before.

"I'm sorry," She fell back on her pillow, staring up at the ceiling. "I tried, father. Really, I did. I was just so tired…"

His face softened at once, clearly pitying his daughter. However, his words did nothing to raise him back up in her eyes. If anything, they hardened her. "It's okay," He decided, as if such words would soothe her. "I was merely concerned. After all, there's a new shipment arriving every day this week, as big as the one you had today. In light of such new material, I'm afraid we'll have to undergo expansion. The woodcutters are dreadfully busy this time of year, so I'm afraid it's just going to be you and me, my dear."

'You and me'. Yeah, right. More like 'all her'. Averting her gaze so he would not see the fury that sprung up in her usually warm, button eyes, she inwardly seethed at his patronizing chuckle. Without another word, he left the room. Rolling over and curling up into a tight little ball, she used her pillow to muffle her anguished cries. No rest for the weary.

A/N: Again, I note, it takes forever for an update, despite how simple such a chapter should be. At least it wasn't a complete year (and sixteen days, haha). I must confess that originally, I had no intention of including Maria/Mary in this piece. It's not that I don't like her -- rather the opposite, I'm quite fond of her -- but I hadn't intended her to fill up a slot. Actually, Jeff was supposed to take Saturday, but due to increased involvement in the last chapter, that didn't seem very wise. So I thought and thought and thought and finally figured out a way to appropriately convey the meaning of Saturday's line. Therefore, this was dedicated to you, Amaretto and Coke. It's kind of short, though…So I hope you don't mind. Quality over quantity, after all.

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