The library is like Topping & Co. but infinitely less familiar. It’s quieter and smells vaguely less dusty and more like the chemical cleaner they don’t like. It’s also huge, gigantic in comparison to the cramped, mazelike footprint of Topping & Co. Humans must really love to read for them to make so many books, Grey thinks to themself as they shuffle slowly inside, eyes darting from shelf to shelf. There’s a desk with a sign near the front and Grey approaches it, slowly, wearily really. This place is meant for people who can read, who like to do it, maybe even love it, and Grey is woefully under-equipped to understand it or move through it. Also they’re recognize the person behind the desk. He visits Topping & Co. often and while he’s never yelled at Grey the way a lot of customers do, Grey is certain he doesn’t like them. “Someone said I should go here to learn how to read,” they tell the carpet in front of the desk, feeling their ears grow warm with shame as they speak.
