Lost In Words: Chapter 1

I was lost. Not just "oh-no-was-the-exit-left-or-right" lost, either. Properly, seriously, starve-to-death lost. To be fair, I was unlikely to starve. Even if I did, I felt that death in a library would be a good way to go.

I'd read most of these books before. Most of the books I hadn't read were in that exclusive group of languages I didn't know. I traced the lettering on their spines, as if that would help me to understand the words. (Also some of the covers were fuzzy.)
I decided it was about time to attempt to leave the library. As fond as I was of the place, outside had food. When I have money, I buy books. If I have any left over, I buy food and clothing. I'd bought my fair share of books that week, and I really wanted tea and some cake. Holding that thought in my mind, I turned and set off on my quest.
I hit my head on something hard and, immediately after, I heard a loud thud and the flutter of pages. I saw that I had knocked a heavy, rather beautiful book out of the hands of a not-so-heavy, rather beautiful woman.
“Oh frak, sorry ma’am," I said, and immediately regretted it. Real smooth, Casanova. Have your second word be a Battlestar reference. Then call her ma'am, making her sound like an old lady. Well done, buddy. Well done. Despite, or perhaps because of, my awful word choices, I stooped down to help her, and, between the two of us, we managed to get the book back into her arms.
“Nonsense. It was my fault." (No, it wasn't.) "But are you ok? These are powerful poems, and from what I can tell, this wouldn’t be the first time they affected someone’s head. Well, it would be without them even being spoken.” Oh god, funny as well. I'll go away forever now.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I do, however, seem to have quite possibly misplaced the door. I don’t suppose you could…”
“Show you the way out?” she asked. I grinned like the Cheshire Cat on drugs and nodded, embarrassed. She shrugged.
“I’d be lying if I said I’d never been lost in here. I think most people would be. You, however, did not seem worried in the slightest. Are you certain you want me to?”
“I think so… what’s the time?”
She answered me by way of pulling an antique pocket watch out and holding it in front of my face. I noted the time and realised that the Spine was due to have been opened two-and-a-bit hours ago. My face must have fallen, because she spoke up.
“I take that as you are late?”
“Very.”
“Ah. Well, follow me then,"
She turned and gestured for me to follow. I did so. Anyone who knows their way around China's library is on roughly the same level as God in my eyes.
An unspoken question hung in the air. That question was: "How did you let yourself get so lost when you obviously had an appointment?" I decided to answer said question.
“It’s a library. I’m surrounded by books. How could anyone ever really be worried?” There is no easier place to lose track of time than in a library.
“Well, not everyone is like me. Us. You." Oh god, she was running her words together... How adorkable. "What I mean is, not everyone loves books, perplexingly enough.” Sadly, I knew what she said was true.
“You certainly look like you do," I said. Her hands were stroking her book's purple cover. She smiled at me.
“More along the lines of what they hold…” So, she was a fan of words instead of books. A woman after my own heart. We continued talking until we reached the door. I walked forward a smidge to open the door for her.
“Oh, merda," she said as she was almost out. She seemed upset by something, and she almost dropped her book.
“What?" I was half questioning what the word was, and half questioning what was wrong.
“Merda. It’s a dirty word in Italian.” That was one question answered, and one more word to add to my list of foreign swearwords.
“Good to know. But why?”
“Sorrows will end me if I leave with this and don’t tell her." I knew she was right. China is a lot of things, but forthcoming is not one of them.
I assumed this was a cue to part ways, and I stuck out my hand. “Niall Montblanc, at your service." Much to my surprise, she took it, and, even more surprisingly, she smiled.
“Venice Rain, at yours."
We shook hands, and I left first. I would have preferred to walk with her more, but that might have come off as clingy or odd or something. As I descended the stairs, I felt myself hoping to see her again. I also caught myself beaming. I couldn't remember the last time someone had made me smile so.