‘Bless you,’ said Nora, watching as the tissue disappeared from the librarian’s hands
the moment she’d finished using it, through some strange and hygienic magic.
‘Don’t worry. Tissues are like lives. There are always more.’
Mrs Elm returned to her train of thought. ‘Doing one thing differently is often the same as doing everything differently.
Actions can’t be reversed within a lifetime, however much we try... But you are no longer within a lifetime. You have popped outside.
This is your opportunity, Nora, to see how things could be.’
This can’t be real, Nora thought to herself. Mrs Elm seemed to know what she was thinking.
‘Oh, it is real, Nora Seed. But it is not quite reality as you understand it.
For want of a better word, it is in-between. It is not life. It is not death.
It is not the real world in a conventional sense. But nor is it a dream.
It isn’t one thing or another. It is, in short, the Midnight Library.’
The slow-moving shelves came to a halt. Nora noticed that on one of the shelves, to her right, at shoulder height, there was a large gap.
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