I saw her for the first time in the WA-WI section of the local library. I noticed her immediately because of her awkward posture. She stood on one leg, with the opposite heel sticking out of a shiny black patent shoe, half hopping, half limping on the spot.
With damp hair darkened from the rain she she stared at the stacks with almost fervent longing. A precariously heaped pile of teen fiction and 20th century classics leaned, balanced against her side like a clingy toddler.
On finding the book she searched for I sedately paced, curious to see the tome she had searched for so ambitiously. The gap suggested an Oxford English copy of "The Picture of Dorian Gray".
