He’d seen books now, but the library was sparse compared to this. Shelves and shelves. Floors and floors. Tables and tables. Piles and piles of books. It was as though they were floating all around him, lifted up by some kind of magic, offering up new worlds, new experiences. It was beautiful.

I know this isn’t your usual thing, but I read To Kill a Mockingbird when I was 21 and going through a hard time – it taught me a lot back then, and I got to see the world through the eyes of a child once more, the good and the bad. It was an escape for me, I threw myself into the world, into the injustices, into the characters, and it was the respite I needed from my own life – for it helped me care deeply about someone else’s. I hope it can be an escape, a bit of respite, for you too. Sometimes, books just take us away for a little while, and return us to our place with a new perspective.

He brushed the hair out of his eyes. There was no name on the note, no ‘to’ and no ‘from’ – it could be for anyone. But then how could he explain that sudden feeling of being seen? As though someone had read his mind? He looked at the book afresh, his eyes taking in the title: To Kill a Mockingbird. Whoever had written this little Post-it note – had they known he sat here, day after day, wasting his hours wallowing?

At the time, he had never wondered where she went when she was within the pages of her book. He just loved seeing the concentration on her face. Sometimes she would smile, just slightly, from the corner of her mouth. Other times she would throw her head back and chuckle, creasing her eyes, and tapping Mukesh on the shoulder as though he was in on the joke. At the time, seeing how happy she was had been enough. But now she was gone, he wished he’d tried harder to be with her in every single moment.

She wasn’t quite sure what made her put the reservation in, but as soon as she’d turned the final page of To Kill a Mockingbird, she had wanted to talk to someone about it, and the man had wanted a book. And, she wondered now, perhaps he’d come to the library in search of more than just a story. What if he had wanted a friend, someone to talk to too? For a little while, Scout and her brother Jem … they had felt like friends to Aleisha. She wondered if this man, if he read it, might discover that too

It was strange, the idea that this book wasn’t just for him, it was for everyone. All these people who had taken it out before him, people who would take it out after him. They might have read it on a beach, on the train, on the bus, in the park, in their living room. On the toilet? He hoped not! Every reader, unknowingly connected in some small way. He was about to be a part of this too. ‘Yes, please.’ He handed both books back to the girl, stamp at the ready, and as he watched, he wondered, had Naina ever held either of these books? She’d been here all the time, she’d read hundreds of books. Had To Kill a Mockingbird been one of them?