Spring 8, 513 AV
Wright Library, Zeltiva University, Zeltiva
Just before closing time
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Minnie Lefting no longer glided amongst the shelves of the library as she once had, silent and at home. She shambled now. The swelling joints of the plague and the way her body had begun gnawing at its own muscles for food had left moving at a slow, clumsy pace. Each step was a complex interaction of walking stick, of clutching close her left hand in its wrapping of bandage, of the slow bending and unbending of her groaning knees.
She carried a satchel on her left shoulder, and it shook in time to the shivering of her fever-quivering back. People avoided her. The row she entered emptied quickly. The plague was past, now, mostly, Minnie was one of the last clinging remnants of it, but it was enough of a remnant that fear mixed with revulsion to keep her, largely, alone.
A librarian came behind her and spoke, more loudly than needed, the way one speaks to one with dementia.
"Dr. Lefting! We're about to close!"
Minnie stopped, half turned, "I'll be staying a few minutes late. You may talk to Mara, she will vouch... no... no Dr. Lefting, now..." she muttered to herself, "She's dead now, yes. Only we are left... only we are left."
"Can I find you something?"
"No, sir... no sir... no, we'll be as quick as we can."
She wandered on, turning, into the literature section. Translations. And then, she stopped, before a bank of Eypharian translations, gripping the shelf before her, gasping for breath, her eyes shut.