Ana
The fluorescent lights of the campus buzzed faintly overhead as I pushed open the heavy door to the library, my backpack slung over one shoulder. It was well past nine, the kind of hour when most students had dragged themselves back to their dorms for Netflix and cheap ramen. But not me. Midterms were breathing down my neck, and the only way I could cram without my roommate's endless chatter was to hole up here until closing.
I scanned the entrance hall, it was empty and quiet except for the echo of my sneakers on the linoleum. The main reading room stretched out, rows of tables dotted with forgotten laptops and half-empty coffee cups.
I headed straight for the back stacks, the third floor, history section. It was my secret spot, it was quiet and secluded, with just enough dust in
