I woke up very early the next morning to the chime of my stupid alarm clock that I haven't used ever since junior year of high school. It's this digital clock that has been smashed, wrecked, and broken due to my pubescent fist smashing against it all the time. There are cracks on its face and top, and the buttons are pretty non-functional at this point (only if you jam it at a certain angle it'll work). I still kept it at my nightstand because it brings back decently good memories of my youth.

I never intended on using this alarm clock today, but considering I don't know where I put my phone, it's better than nothing. I'm stuck with using my old flip phone that I used when I was around eleven until I can actually find where I put it. Since I don't have my number memorized, I can't simply ring it.

I do my usual morning routine (taking a shower, changing, etc.) and head to the kitchen for breakfast. I exploded my ramen noodles in the microwave last night and until now there were still hints of artificial chicken flavoring. Ty's sitting at the table, a grilled cheese sandwich in one hand and Lord of the Flies in the other. At least he's reading the actual book.

"You're awake early," he points out as I walk past him.

"Um, yeah," I nod my head nonchalantly. "I'm heading to get your book."

"The library doesn't open until nine thirty."

"I have stuff to do."

Ty rolls his eyes as if he doesn't believe me, "Yeah, right. Do you even remember the book title?"

"Something with Rye..." I mumble under my breath. "Is it The Hunter in the Rye?"

I've never seen someone's face scrunch up so quickly. It looked as if he had swallowed a peeled lemon whole, or maybe choked on one of those sour candies. Whatever the expression, it definitely showcased how offended he was.

"It's The Catcher in the Rye," he corrects.

"Hunter, catcher, it's literally all the same," I exasperate. I reach for the box of Cheerios then proceed to pour some into a bowl. I then head for the fridge to get some milk. Thank god it wasn't expired this time.

"What about the author?" He pesters.

I don't bat an eye as I set my overflowing bowl of milk and cereal down onto the table, "J.K. Rowling?"

"J.D. Salinger."

"Whatever, they're still the same person." I set the milk back into the fridge, grab a silver spoon, then sit down to eat.

"J.K. Rowling is the author of Harry Potter!"

"Ty, I'm no English Major but I'm pretty sure Percy Jackson wrote Harry Potter."

"Are you just fucking with me right now? Percy Jackson is not even a real person! If you actually read some books, maybe that brain of yours will actually remember things."

I've personally was never the big reader in my lifetime. There's just something that is discomforting about a bunch of jumbled words on a single page. Sure, literature can seem like an "art style" with authors carefully perfecting their craft, but there are no fun colors in books. They're just boring pieces of black and white paper. Reading makes my head hurt; there's just too much to process.

If I had the choice, I'd rather be a character in a painting rather than a character in a book. Paintings are visually appealing and can express emotion and thoughts all without the usage of words. Everyone can see and understand a painting in the same fashion. Books, however, have to try to convey that to the reader. The author has to clearly state what the character is in order for their readers to understand what the author means. Interpretation is a funny thing.

I recall a time in my life where I actually paid attention in English Class back in high school. The teacher liked to blabber on about the smallest details such as a character's choice in curtains. "If the curtains are indigo, the author is trying to convey that the character is sad." Maybe it hadn't occurred to them the author just wanted the curtains to be indigo.

Now, after all of that it sounds like I do have a distaste for books, or literature of any kind. Ironically, I personally have a taste for libraries. I like the serenity of their calm atmosphere. It's a good place to work when you need to complete some school work, or maybe even a commission. Of course, libraries now send a pang of regret and guilt flooding through my mind. Ah, how association can ruin someone's perspective.

By association, I mean Seto the Librarian. I can't believe I never bothered to memorize my phone number.

I'm brought back to reality when Ty gets out of his chair. He ended up finishing his breakfast first. He disposed of his trash, grabbed his backpack, and headed out the door. He waved, briefly, and then slammed it shut. Normally, I would have pulled out my phone and checked the latest news, maybe even Instagram or Twitter, but now I just sit munching on some soggy cereal. It's like when Ty broke my car radio: all I could do is sit in silence.

I decided to down the rest of the milk. It's a sweet honey taste and there are clumps of Cheerios going down my throat as well. I put the bowl in the sink then headed towards my room. I see my phone lying under the bed. I'm relieved, but how did it get there in the first place? I would have noticed if it was under my bed yesterday.

Maybe I need glasses.

I take my phone and shove it into my jean pocket. I attempted to look my casual today rather than wearing Shelby's trench coat. I'm wearing a black beanie that I'm pretty sure I bought from Claire's. I'm also wearing a black hoodie. Inside I have a maroon red sweater that my mother bought for me on my seventeenth birthday. To top it all off, I threw on black jeans and red converse shoes.

I'm feeling kinda artsy so I grab a black scarf and wore it. It's one of those short scarves that don't really keep you warm but look nice. Hopefully the weather decides to be kind today. I grab my car keys and my wallet, then head out the door.

Since it's early in the morning there's not a lot of people heading out the lobby doors. It's empty and smells like lavender. The red carpet is nicely vacuumed and everything is polished. Unfortunately, by the end of the day, everything will be trashed and it'll smell like a skunk walked in here. I push against the glass door and step outside.

I'm hit with a cold blast of air. Of course it's going to be freezing. I bolt towards my car and vigorously open the door. I start the engine and sigh with relief as I'm hit with hot air. I turn down the window to my left just a bit so I can feel the breeze. Ready to go, I guess.

I've been to Roseville before. It's a nice suburban town that hosts seasonal events. My favorite time of year is Christmas. They have this huge Christmas tree in the center of town, and when midnight strikes, the lights all turn on. It's very pretty and a spectacular show.

Well, except when it's raining.

I head towards the highway and pray that I won't get into a car crash. Each lane is bustling with cars, signifying heavy traffic. It's probably because of the multiple school buses holding up each lane. I take the time to open up my phone and play some music since my car radio is broken. Daunting as it may seem, waiting through traffic is something I don't really mind.

After an hour of mindlessly driving down a highway filled with traffic, I take the exit to Roseville. I didn't know the exact street of the library, so I figured I might as well drive around until I could find it. I have time to spare, after all. (Turns out that was a really bad idea).

Roseville is a larger town than I could remember because now I'm driving around in circles, passing the same Starbucks three times. I parked my car and grabbed my phone again. I googled the public library and figured out I just needed to go straight and make a left.

Heading down the street and making a sharp left, low and behold there it was. I parked my car on the side of the street, stepped out, and inserted some coins in the parking meter. It's about 8:47 in the morning, which meant the library was already open. Looking both ways, I sprinted across the street. I opened the glass door. I anticipated some refreshing warmth but instead got chillier. It's freezing in here.

I head towards the front desk. There's this cute girl sitting there typing on an old computer. She's wearing red eye shadow with black winged eyeliner that has a white highlight on the tips. Her lips are a cherry color. Her hair is brown and goes up to her shoulders.

She doesn't notice me staring at her so I clear my throat. She nearly jumps out of her chair.

"Scared me there!" She chuckles. "Hi, I'm Bonkerz, how can I help you."

Am I suppose to introduce myself as well? No, we don't need to know each other on a name to name basis.

"Do you happen to have The Catcher in the Rye?" I question.

"All our copies are being rented out, sorry," she apologizes, "I can put you on the waiting list if you want. However, there's going to be eight people ahead of you."

I pale up. "Ah, no thanks."

"Do you even have a library card? I've never seen you around here before."

What am I suppose to say now? No, I don't have a library card because I live four cities away and I'm trying to avoid this other librarian who I've embarrassed myself in front of.

"I'm, uh, just visiting my cousin and he told me that there was a nearby library. I wanted to read the book." I lied straight to her face.

"Oh," she nods her head. "There's another library four towns away from here. I can call them and ask if they have a copy of it."

I nod my head profoundly, "Sure."

She picks up this old telephone that belongs in the 1990s. She dials a number, waits, then speaks.

"Hey Seto!" She exclaims. I nearly choke on my own salvia. "There's this guy here who's wondering if you happen to have The Catcher in the Rye."

There's a pause of silence and she nods her head. "Yeah, thanks."

She hangs up the phone then draws her attention towards me, "You look like you've just seen a ghost. Anyway, they have it there. You want me to give you the address?"

"No thanks, I'm good," I swiftly reply. "I'll be heading off then."

She waves goodbye and watches me as I head out the door. Just my luck, they have it at the library I was trying to avoid all this time. I don't bother to look left and right as I cross the street. I head into my car and start the engine again.

There's two options for me. I can either face my fears and go to the library that's actually in my town, or buy myself a copy. I contemplate wasting my own money, then find out that the paperback copy costs about $20 at Barnes and Nobles. Yeah, I'm going to face my fears.

I head towards the highway again and I'm met with lighter traffic. I definitely needed to get that book, and hopefully I'm not emotionally scarred by the end of it. Hell, maybe I'm just overreacting like I normally do.