Hopefully these bruises and cuts will fade eventually.
I honestly can’t remember a time when I didn't have at least one or two.
“Can I help you with those?” the woman asks. “Do you have your library card with you?”
My what?
She registers the blank look on my face.
“Not to worry, we can issue you a card.”
Her voice is friendly and upbeat.
“You'll just need some ID and proof of address.”
Seriously. Why is everyone so obsessed with ID?
Even if I had any, I don’t want people to know who I am.
“Can I just read these in the corner over there, and then come back tomorrow?”
“I guess you can,” she grins. “But please put them back on the shelf when you leave.”
I snuggle back into my beanbag, flipping through each cover.
But soon I get distracted.
I’m paying close attention to the trolley she’s wheeling across the carpet.
This is the kind of place I would enjoy working.
Following behind her, hope rises in my chest.
“I really wanna work here,” I tell her. “Can I have a job?”
She holds back a smile.
“We're not hiring,” she explains. “But there’s a community notice board over there.”
Near the exit hangs a large cork board covered in paper.
Lost pets. Garage sales.
Local events. Music lessons.
I scan for words that catch my eye.
Most of these roles are out of my league.
Experience required.
Qualifications needed.
Must have a drivers licence.
Be well presented.
All things I don’t have.
