Inside, the fluorescent lights take their sweet time flickering on.
I feel a pang of longing, Nostalgia, I guess, for every library I’ve ever loved, and the little girl who dreamed of this: being the first person in and the last out of a building brimming with books. And feeling like it belonged to me in a way, and I to it.
A home, when nowhere else felt right.
Harvey takes a deep breath. 'Don’t you love the way it smells?'
'So, so much,' I say.
'That right there' he says, 'is why I can’t retire. If could live in this feeling, I would.'

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