Two nights ago, a man came into the library to see the 36 year old me at the reference desk. After helping him with something, he looked around and said, “You know, you must be kind of embarrassed. I mean, a man your age, working in here, doing…this?” He waved his arms at all of the “this” around us.
He smirked. He was short. I’m not sure who he thought should be at the desk. Either a kid, or maybe a baby.
Sometimes the magic happens and you just know what to say.
“You’ll never be tall,” I said.
He turned and walked away, staggering back to the wreck of his dreams, and his only lullaby that night was hopefully the echo of my voice.
Also: I was prepared to be nice. It’s not hard.