What the Universe Feels Like
Written by: Elvie
Slick.
Flesh on glossy paper.
He runs his finger over the image again and presses down gently with his fingertip as if to say, “I was here.” He lifts the oversized book from the nicked and worn reading table and tilts it beneath the fluorescent light until he can see the tiny map his finger left behind, a universe within a universe. A hand briefly touches his shoulder and a hushed voice, a voice like light from the past tells him, “Sir, the library will be closing in fifteen minutes.” He rotates in his chair, a flesh and blood satellite, smiles, and watches the librarian walk back to her desk. The industrial fan humming in the corner has loosened wisps of her auburn hair so that they float around the back of her neck, swirling like gases in the dust filled air. He blinks twice.
She is a new star forming and he will name her.
