The library was quiet. For now.
Carl tried never to relax. Eternal vigilance. It was always when everything seemed calm that unexpected trouble loomed up. You had to keep your eyes open, in a library.
Suddenly, he heard the chilling cry and telltale thud of a book being dropped. Carl sprinted away.
There she was. Young girl. Pity.
“Cover!” Carl shouted as he dove. The explosion was muffled, mostly absorbed by his protective vest. Carl stood and dusted off a few flecks of biology trivia and a spare phone number. He glanced at the book.
“Joyce,” he muttered. “No wonder.”
The Paradox Of Tarleton’s Pebble
10 hours ago