A Different kind of Library

He's right that it was the only library on this side of the street. However, I had no idea that it would be blocks and blocks and blocks down the way. I'm lucky I'm in good health. It is an odd shaped library. It's about two stories high with a pointed roof, stained glass windows and a bell. That's right, a bell. One of those big, old fashioned bells that one would see in a school or a church. Not usually on a library. Inside is equally, if not more confusing. There are no librarians in site. Just column after column of book shelves in the center of the room. I walk past the many rows of book shelves to the front of the building. There I am greeted by a large crucifix with three small steps leading up to an alter. At the alter I see two violet candles. It looks as though they were lit not to long ago as smoke still lingers. I scratch my head. I have never been in a church with so many books, and have never been in a library with a crucifix. That's when I heard a school bell ring. I look to my right. A wooden door swings open. I expect to see a bunch of kids all dressed in Catholic school uniforms. Instead they are in regular, street clothes. They are all stomping, screaming, yelling, and running as fast as they can to get out of there. It seems disrespectful , and I want to say something, but I'm not really sure where I am. After all, maybe here it's perfectly normal and ok for them to act like that. So I opt to watch them leave instead. They leave in a snap. I look around once more. There is big room with a glass window labled "Adult Learning." I look through the class. It is not so much a class but rather, a place where the adults go to read in quiet. Many different people of races and ethic backgrounds, all reading in this enclosed area. I look closely, and I see one person who particularly strikes my interest. 80 something, grey, curly hair, reading a magazine. Could it be, could it be Ms. Rosalyn? I can not see her mouth, but it looks like her from the top of her head. It certainly is worth a shot. I open the door slowly as to not make a sound and I creep up the person. "Ms. Rosalyn?" The person takes the magazine away from their face to reveal a much older man. Not Ms. Rosalyn. He gives me a perplexed look. "Sorry, wrong person." I say as I exit the room feeling somewhat defeated. I leave the library/ church/ school. I do feel disappointed, but I went out on a whim and I gave it a shot. For that I feel I am a better person. "Hello, you found me." I hear an older voice say to me. I look down. It's Ms. Rosalyn.