X [amount of words]; open

[[dead]]

Relapse
Prevent trigger intent
Now drown
High strung
Say X amount of words


The library. It was a large place filled with dusty old books, magazines, journals...everything you can think of almost. Some of these things hadn't been viewed in years and had layers of dust settling between the musty yellow pages. Now and days, people didn't appricaite books as they used to. Back in the Middle Ages, only the privlidge learned to read, and even then it was only the bible. But that was still important. Then normal people started to read to pass the time, and could spend hours speaking the words aloud from a page or looking at them themselves. The world wasn't like that anymore. Yes, there were still newspapers and magazines and books, but people did not places as much emphasis on literature, not with the internet which can give you the same thing. It was sort of funny, you can have a web page of script from a book, and the same book, hardbound, right next to each other, and the average person would automatically lean towards the internet. Yes, the world was different. Except for teachers. Teachers love books, worship them even. "Read!"They say it so much you think that they were reciting their daily prayers. "Read books!" The teacher would slam one down hard on a desk, "They are your friends!" Apparently teachers like hitting their friends on desks.

Teachers were also the reason Weston was here today. Her teachers could not just accept a couple of internet sources, oh no, they wanted those plus 6 books, 3 journals and at least two articles. Lovely. Weston had rolled out of bed with only one thought in her mind. Study. She had showered quickly, not even bothering to blow dry her hair, and putting on little make-up. Her dress was casual: jeans, a hoodie and some converses. She was not in the mood to dress up today. She had grabbed a back-pack, filled with pens, papers and what little resources she had already, and started her trek down the street. She thought about what exactly she would right on, something about renaissance composers or baroque or something, for music history class. She was not looking forward to it at all. Weston figured that the British library would have more books than the one at the school. She needed to study anyway, and at the school library, she would not necessarily get that done. She always seemed to run into the most random people there, and then the situation became more of a social event, and she would get absolutely nada finished.

She swung open the door the the library, which was as silent as the grave, only the loud air conditioners to be heard. She wondered if anyone was even here. Who cares, she was here to study. She moved up a flight of stairs, walking between rows and rows of books, lingering for moments to look at titles. The old smell made her nose tingle, and she sneezed as she pulled a title off of the shelf, keeping it on her person as she went to sit down in an empty chair, leafing through the pages, trying to find something useful. It was going to be a long day

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