The Night Librarian

“Hello, Teddy.” Slim, slightly balding and with glasses, Charles Kramer was what you would expect for a head librarian.

“Oh, Hello Mr. Kramer. I wasn’t expecting you. Is something wrong?” Theodore Marek had been working as the night librarian for as long as anyone can remember and almost never had a head librarian stopped by after 10 PM. At five foot, and totally bald, Teddy was about a foot shorter than the head librarian. Unlike the head librarian, there was something in Marek’s carriage that signaled he had not always been a librarian.

“No, I was working on the budget and realized that I had left some papers here. You know it has been ages since I was here this late. It’s pretty quiet.”

“Oh yes, Sir. Just me, a few night owls and students burning both sides of the candle.” The main branch was one of the last all-night libraries in the city.

“And the homeless.” The library was a place for them when it got too cold or a place could not be found for the night.

“Yes, Sir. But I know the regulars and we have an agreement. If they do not disturb anyone and clean up after themselves, they’re welcome. I’ve rarely had a problem. Once in a while the police come by and ask about a missing person, but besides that nothing.

“Well, if you are good with it. By the way, I was going over personnel records. How long have you been working nights? It seems like forever.”

“Oh, yes, sir. I can hardly remember when I wasn’t the night librarian.”

“And you never wanted to work days?”

“No, it’s quiet which lets me read. I talk to those that have no one and share a meal sometimes. And I have all these books to go through.”

“And your family doesn’t mind?”

“No, sir. My wife died very long ago and we never had children.”

“As long as your happy, I guess. No one else wants it. Well, let me get those papers or my wife will give me hell. Good night, Teddy.”

“Good Night, Sir.”

Seeing Kramer go get the papers and leave, Theodore had to think back. When was the last time he had not been the night librarian? It must have been Alexandria, before the big fire. Thank Amon that one of his priestesses was there to save his life. Had she not initiated him he would not have survived his injuries. She had been lovely, too bad that none of the followers of Amon can have children. After all, the undead are the undead.

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