She was numb for about half an hour, and had stared blankly at the unfinished game of chess.
The reality was simply too big to absorb at first, but then it had hit her hard and sideways, taking her off the track she’d known.
She had hugged Mrs Elm so close, crying into her polo neck until her face was raw from the fusion of tears and acrylic.
Mrs Elm had held her, stroking and smoothing the back of her head like a baby,
not offering platitudes or false comforts or anything other than concern.
She remembered Mrs Elm’s voice telling her at the time: ‘Things will get better, Nora. It’s going to be all right.’
It was over an hour before Nora’s mother came to pick her up, her brother stoned and numb in the backseat.
And Nora had sat in the front next to her mute, trembling mother, saying that she loved her, but hearing nothing back.
‘What is this place? Where am I?’ Mrs Elm smiled a very formal kind of smile.
‘A library, of course.’ ‘It’s not the school library. And there’s no exit. Am I dead? Is this the afterlife?’
‘Not exactly,’ said Mrs Elm. ‘I don’t understand.’ ‘Then let me explain.’
The Midnight Library
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