A ghost of a woman walks laps at the library as I browse for books. She wears white pants and a pastel striped sweater. I thumb through books; the paper cracks; I smell the must of the disused paper, and all the while this lady walks laps. Her face is vacant. Her eyes are magnificent in bottle cap glasses but there isn’t anything there in her stare as she looks straight ahead through wisps of crackling blonde hair. She never runs into shelves or into the pobre homeless guys who co...