At the corner of Bedford & Broad

The library doors are closed.

static and still. 

Inside lay dormant displays.

Chairs pushed in. 

Once you heard 

pages rustling,

tapping of keys, 

clicks of the mouse,

the rush of footsteps up the grand staircase,

a hypnotic cacophony of voices and noises.

Outside, the streets are empty 

As if people ran inside to shelter 

and take cover from a looming rain cloud.

Errant cars.

People hiding their faces with masks soiled and worn.

Ghosts of past pedestrians.

Waiting for the library doors to open.