Week 109 – Is that cinnamon I smell?
Sydney Carriere hummed as she walked up the aisle.
This was her favorite time of day. She always hung around for a little while after the library closed, pottering around, tidying up a little, then she would walk up and down choosing a couple of books to take home with her to read in bed and return in the morning. She could read at least one book an hour and usually went through two or three a day, every day. That made for a lot of books, so it was a good thing she worked in a library.
Working in a library was her dream job and she loved coming here every single day.
Now if only she could get the rest of her life to match.
While the job box was definitely, nothing else was. Okay, well that was’t quite true, she had a family she loved, mom and dad still together, three brothers and two sisters who she fought with but would also die for, and friends that drove her crazy, made her laugh, and were always there when she needed them.
But she wanted more.
She wanted a boyfriend. She had just turned thirty, all her friends and all her siblings were either married or in a serious relationship and she was all alone.
It was almost five years now since her husband had been killed just two months after they were married.
Five very long years.
But through it all she’d had her books. She had even tried writing one but she was way too self-conscious to try publishing it. Maybe one day.
Sydney reached the back corner of the library and paused, scrunching her brow in confusion.
“Is that cinnamon I smell?” she asked aloud. “Why am I smelling cinnamon. Did Carmen leave a donut in the microwave again? And why are you talking to yourself?”
Rolling her eyes at herself she headed to the small kitchen where they had their breaks. She stopped in her tracks when she opened the door. A plate of snickerdoodles sat on the table, there were two glasses of champagne, and helium filled balloons had been tied to the backs of two of the chairs.
Confused she spun in a circle but she didn’t see anyone.
“What is going on? Hello?” she called out.
No one answered.
“This is too weird. And you are too weird, Syd, stop talking to yourself.”
“I think its adorable.”
She spun around again at the sound of the voice, then gasped.
“No,” she whispered. “You can’t be here.”
“And yet I am.”
Sydney didn’t hesitate, she screamed at the top of her lungs and turned and ran.
He was faster than her. Bigger and stronger than her too. He grabbed her arm, yanked her up against his body, then wrapped an arm around her neck and squeezed.
She claws, she kicked, she struggled.
It didn’t do any good.
The world grayed, a sound like rushing waves at the beach echoed in her head, her limbs began to tingle, and then she floated away.
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