Chloe surveyed the empty cloisters. Her job was done. All that remained now was to hand the key into the caretaker.
Now that all the books and their shelving had been removed she could see the bare bones of the building. The grand architectural statement swelled around her like a Wagnerian symphony transposed into stone. For the thirty five years she’d worked in the building the books of the library had been the heart and soul of the place. Without them the place felt soulless, even haunted. ‘The ghosts of under-appreciated books,’ she thought fancifully.
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