Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Sunday nights always pulled the worst parts of you out, as you were always permitted to do more than you anticipated to do. It was always bitter on a Sunday, colouring a bitter feeling all over your body because it solely irked you. It irked you more than you would admit to saying. You found it absurd that you disliked Sundays, but at least you had the library close by you. You didn't want to go on this particular day, but Mikasa had requested for a book in the library as she was busy with something you had asked her to do. That was the main reason why you were going to the library. It all clicked into place, you finally felt motivated. Motivated to pick up the book you wanted to read: the mushrooms who lived in comfort.
The book maintained a childish spirit, but what fun was it to question its nature? Question something it was based on? You had practically divulged deep enough into almost every single book the library held. So this one book you held, you carried hope that it was good, as it was large in size; the cover was bland, yet it was beautifully vibrant when it came to catching your eyes. You had caught sight of it online, growing rather fond of the children's book, as it held all sorts of pleasantries. Children's books were so majestic for no explainable reasons, if you were to say. Though some books, that fuel and stimulate 'certain' parts of the body, were good, children's books held moderate comfort that's pleasing.
It brought an indescribable peace you found comfort deep within. Nobody seemed to understand the peace you found, so you couldn't express your comfort without feeling restricted. You honestly wondered why you were pondering on the fact that you didn't share certain qualities with people, even though it greatly didn't matter. All you had to do was pick out two large books and call it a day. You wouldn't even call it a great day as it was Sunday — a day that was close to the day you had to work: Monday. Time wasn't flexible for you, so you had to be swift.
You were currently walking down the street, the breeze soft against your face as you walked, moving in slowness to enjoy the dull weather. Many people began to shelter from the pelting rain, fleeing from the scene in a hurry while you walked, unable to find motivation for running away from the rain. It was stupid to allow yourself to slowly get plummeted by drops of rain, but you would've rather been wet than run along with a group of people, desperate for shelter from a store nearby as the library was a seven-minute walk from your car — all because they prohibited parting near the library, so you had to suffer in ways you weren't fond of.
