BryonMature

Bryon

I sat in a bean bag chair in the Young Adult section, a braille edition of Christopher Paolini's "Eragon" upon my lap. Someone came up the steps, stomping like a herd of elephants, and flung himself down into a chair in the Romance section. I paused in my reading, my finger hovering over where I presumed the next dent or indent was on the page. Whoever it was, he was breathing pretty hard. I dog-eared the page I was on and rose, some what unsteadily, to my feet. I had memorized the library by heart. It was easy for me to move about within its walls. I moved cautiously towards the sound of the stranger. When I felt I was close enough, I made myself heard.

"Are you okay?"

The person gasped, but said nothing. I could tell now that she was female. I wondered why she had not spoken.

"It's alright," I told her, smiling, "I'm blind. That doesn't mean I bite,"

The padded wooden chair creaked as she stood.

"I'm Bryon," I held my hand out in her direction, feeling rather stupid for doing so.

To my surprise, her hand slid into mine. With a voice as soft and as suddle as the coo of a dove, she introduced herself, "Sarah,"

My mother's voice startled our meeting, "Bryon! It's time to go home, honey!"

I let go of Sarah's hand and ducked around her, calling over my shoulder,  "It was nice meeting you!"

I put one foot on the top step of the stair. Or, at least, I tried to. I lost my balance completely. My arms cartwheeled as I attempted to stop my descent.  A hand was pressed to my chest, another on my shoulder. It was Sarah. I could smell her perfume. It was the same aroma of lavender and lilac that she had left on my palm when we shook hands.

"Thanks," I told her, taking a few steps backwards.

"Bryon? Are you coming?"

From the echoes, I guessed Mom was at the foot of the stairs.

I nodded, "Yeah, sorry,"

 

The End

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