That Was Twenty Years Ago (One Page Exercise)

I have worked at the Greenhollow Public Library for twenty-two years as of last week. I started as a book sorter back when I was just sixteen and have since been promoted to a full-time librarian. In all my twenty-two years I have never experienced something as strange as today’s encounter. I was at the front desk, placing new stickers on the spines of some old volumes when a man I vaguely recognized entered the foyer. He had with him a pristine copy of a very old printing of Atlas Shrugged. I greeted him as I usually do and he asked if he could return the book. I hadn’t seen a copy of Atlas Shrugged in our little branch since I was a teenager. In fact, I could only ever recall one person checking it out. And then it hit me. Twenty years ago I checked a copy of Atlas Shrugged out to a man who never brought it back. I still remember what he wore, a gray overcoat and polished shoes, and the color of his eyes as he scanned the volume on the shelf. Here he was in front of me. Apparently unaged. And wearing the same outfit. Surely this couldn’t be the same fellow?

He strolled up to the counter and placed the book down. I flipped the cover open and searched for the barcode. There wasn’t one. Instead, on the inside cover was a paper checkout slip. We haven’t used those in well over fifteen years. “Did you check this book out at our branch?” I asked, incredulous, while continuing to examine the volume. “Yes, about a month ago” he said matter-of-factly. I stared at the book in my hands quietly for a beat. “Are you sure? It doesn’t have the stickers we put on all our books” something was all wrong about this. My mouth went dry. “Perhaps they fell off” he said plainly “I know the usual return time is two weeks, how much is my late fee?”. I stared at him, then back at the book, then back at him. “I-I won’t charge you a late fee” what else could I say? It’s not like it would be in the system anyway. “Thank you young man,” he said with a strange glint in his eye “I’ve got some errands to run, good day.” With that he strolled out of the library. I flipped the book over and over in my hands, searching for a reasonable explanation to the whole episode. Finding none, I set the book on the counter and glanced out the glass entrance doors only to see him sort of – vanish. No puff of smoke, no theatrics, no tractor beam. Just gone.