Computer People.

Couldn't think of anything else to write about so I described what I saw when I was sat in the library getting my hour of free computer time. Damn, I could have spent the time looking at you tube clips of people getting hurt. At least then I could have had a laugh instead of worrying that someone might criticize (sorry that should be "critique", never was any good with foreign languages, especially English) what I had written.

The man next to me has his face pushed right up almost touching the VDU of his computer and he is still squinting, bighting his finger nails and his brow creases obviously worried by something that he is reading or seeing.  A sense of disbelief crosses his face for  less than a second and this micro expression speaks to my soul of the bad things that I have ever seen.  He is shaking his head now and it seems that this is bad.  And then, as if a rain shower ends, he smiles and I know that it's all fine once more.

The young women with the naughty little girl is back to annoy us all.  The child runs up and down squeaking with joy and next she will start dismantling the furniture in the children's section which happens to be right next to where I'm trying to work on this very important thing that I am trying to write here.  She fell over now, look mum your child is out of control why don't you  do something!  That's it just sit there and take care of your own life and don't worry about the fact that your child is sticking her tongue into the power sockets, yes you just put on your headphones and listen to your music while bobbing your head like some kind of special needs pigeon.

That stench, puke and excrement means the homeless guy with no overcoat is back to get warm, snooze on the comfortable chairs and probably leave a urine stain.  He's looking very blue and it's hard to have sympathy for someone when they smell so bad.  Oh no he's seen me and if we make eye contact he'll come over and start talking his madness to me and everyone else will breathe a sigh of relief because he picked on me and they can sit back and enjoy the show now they aren't the centre of attention.  Must keep  my head down.  Good, he's talking to the librarian, the nice one who wears the guady tights and outrageously coloured dresses, like a primary school teacher.  I bet she was a primary school teacher she's got the kind of face that could strike fear into the heart of giddy five year old, terrorise with the eyes.  She can't stand the smell either, it's written all over her face.  She's almost pinching her nose to stop herself being sick.  I don't know why she just doesn't ask him to leave. It's getting like some kind of homeless shelter slash psychiatric unit slash creche, place in here.  The dust is getting thicker on the shelves too.

My next door neighbours over there.  The one I only ever say hello to when leaving the front door, and at no other time.  We won't acknowledge each now, not until maybe tomorrow or the next day or maye in a few days time, but we will only nod to each other when we are both leaving our front doors at the same time.  Never at any other time.  It's like we both think that the other thinks we become invisible when we step out into the street.  

There we go, the child has pulled the little kids table onto herself and is screaming the place down, and Mum, your response?  That's right grab your daughter by the arm and give a her a great smack, a thumping hard whack, bang in the middle of her back.  I bet that hurt.  Aiming for her buttocks I suspect but your aim does go awry when when the red mist comes down.  And we all just ignore it like it never happened but we are all feeling that there was something not quite right about that even though while the child was ripping this nice new library apart and making us all wish her Mother would just take the kid and leave we never thought that we would see one human being assault another in a fit of rage.

Oh well that's my hour up and as usual nothing much has happened in the library. 

The End

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