The power went out around two on Sunday

The power went out around two on Sunday

so I walked to the library to get warm

and use an outlet.

I hadn't been inside one in six years.

The man at the reading table had his head down

on his forearms, a large-print book face-down beneath him

like a small roof.

The fluorescent above him was buzzing—

the faint, continuous kind of buzz

that after a while becomes the silence.

A librarian walked past him in soft-soled shoes.

She didn't slow.

Came back the other way twenty minutes later.

Didn't stop then either.

I watched that happen twice and understood

it was a policy.

Not posted. Not written anywhere.

Just: you are allowed to be here.

You are allowed to need this room.

You don't have to be doing anything useful to stay.

I don't know when I forgot that kind of room existed.

I stayed three hours. Did nothing productive.

The man was still asleep when I left.

His book hadn't moved.

The light kept buzzing.

I walked home and the power was back on

and I turned every lamp on at once

for no reason I could name

and stood there in it.