Ph.D. Student
She takes her seat in the library, opening a pile of books with a smile before she gets to work. She makes notes with pen and paper. Sometimes she underlines a phrase in pencil, her thumb and finger pressed so tight I think she’ll snap it in two.
She frowns with concentration. She is hungry for knowledge, as if the simple act of knowing will put the world to rights.
When she tires of the written word she’ll stretch her arms above her head, shake her hair and go searching for caffeine and conversation in the ground floor café. Sometimes a friend will come to find her and they’ll amble along arm in arm, past my aisle where I keep my head down as I slot returned books back in place.
She might send a smile my way but she won’t really notice me. And just as I have no idea of what the future has in store for her, she knows nothing of my past, of the time I sat in that same spot and filled my head with knowledge, assuming it would be enough to make everything right in my world.
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