The Sun is shining, the birds are chirping, and everyone around her wore big smiles as they entered and exited the library. The world was turning, everything was swell, and if you'd just squint, you could say that nothing was amiss. Right at this moment, everything was perfect.

"Oops, sorry," A senior quickly bows, Irene bowing her head in response to him rudely bumping her shoulder before quickly walking away.

"Watch where you're going, dimwit." She petulantly whispers underneath her breath. Her mood souring even more. 

Others may find this world beautiful, but to Irene, it was all in black and white. She trudged through every single day hoping that the rise of the Sun would come slower and the departure of the Moon would come later. For a library, it was noisy. Everyone was too annoying, too stupid, too black or white and never one gray. No one here is like her. No one here is even near as smart as her. 

Irene purses her lips as she arrives at the aisle, looking for an interesting book. Horror books, fantasy books - they were all childish to her. She held wits and smarts dearly, but listening too much to your head lessens you from listening to your heart. There were only two things that made Irene feel something: poetry and chess. Both share an equal amount of elegance, grace, and brains. Her eyes scanned the shelf, walking along before she stops in her tracks, a white, thin book catching her eye.

'Bitter Sweet Love', she mentally reads, 'Michael Faudet.' Contemplating for a second more, she reaches, just at the same time as someone else's. At the contact of skin on skin, she almost jumps, flinching visibly as she steps back, her eyes meeting another pair. Her first instinct is to scold, always being more sensitive when it comes to unwanted contact, but she stops herself. 

"Oh, I'm sorry, do you want to read this bo