Katherine "Kissin' Kate" Barlow (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ikissdhimbck) wrote2011-07-29 12:44 am
ikissdhimbck) wrote2011-07-29 12:44 am
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OOM: Milliways Library, for Dixie
It's not just any library. Sure, as you step in it looks fairly ordinary — books, chairs, tables, so forth — but as you browse the aisles they seem to go on without end. Volume after volume, any book you could imagine and more. A universe of information crammed within these walls.
Kate hasn't ventured here much since things came apart in Green Lake. Poe makes her sad; Byron reminds her of all the things she's lost. She'll come for a book from someone else's world, and then retire to her room to study it. But not today. Her room is stuffy of late; a hutch filled with empty bottles, the smell of sweat and liquor, and the trammels of bad dreams. She's sobered up enough since her Milliversary to regret the headaches and hangovers, but not enough yet to feel quite herself.
So she hides. Today, in an aisle marked 'R' filled with dusty old books from a bygone century Kate hasn't identified. She's not really looking for anything. She doesn't even seem interested in the two volumes she has stacked by her side. She's just sitting, back to the opposing shelf of books, staring at the weathered old spines.
Kate hasn't ventured here much since things came apart in Green Lake. Poe makes her sad; Byron reminds her of all the things she's lost. She'll come for a book from someone else's world, and then retire to her room to study it. But not today. Her room is stuffy of late; a hutch filled with empty bottles, the smell of sweat and liquor, and the trammels of bad dreams. She's sobered up enough since her Milliversary to regret the headaches and hangovers, but not enough yet to feel quite herself.
So she hides. Today, in an aisle marked 'R' filled with dusty old books from a bygone century Kate hasn't identified. She's not really looking for anything. She doesn't even seem interested in the two volumes she has stacked by her side. She's just sitting, back to the opposing shelf of books, staring at the weathered old spines.
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"Life changes with the leaves," she agrees. "Leaves and the wind. The key's to dig your heels in the dirt before it drags you off."
"Well, don't go shutting yourself away," she says. But she's wise enough to know when she's licked. "What'd you decide on, Kate?" it's a loaded question and Kate can - if she wishes - believe that she meant to talk about the book.
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One thing she's good at is digging in her heels.
"Byron," she says, fixing Dixie with a knowing look. "Always did love the way he'd write 'bout lost love an' life."
She plucks the book of poems from the bookshelf in front of her, and stands up. Her movements are stiff; her expression muted. The first anniversary was bound to be the hardest. Next year, she won't be caught like this.
"Thank you for the company, Miss Dixie."