Luca's Dream. After reading the title, I stood in the empty office in a state of mild shock, the ominous printout in my trembling hands. Had I stumbled over the missing story of Luca by accident? There was only one way to find out.

Determined to uncover the truth, I thumbed through the loose pages, skimming a few paragraphs here and there. Yes, the main protagonist was male and named Luca. I wasn't surprised, but needed to know more and moved on until I reached the last page to read it. At a first glance, the text ended mid sentence. I turned the page, but the back side was blank. The story had no proper ending. Whoever wrote the piece, they had abandoned the manuscript mid-scene, with only a few words scattered onto the page after the last paragraph that might have been meant as notes on which direction the story would take from there.

I had found the reason Luca got caught in his in-between state as a resident of the library.

Someone cleared their throat in the reception area and startled me back into the present. Over my discovery, I'd forgotten I still was supposed to serve my customers. "On my way, just a second."

While I bent to stow the manuscript in the drawer, I hesitated. Conny wouldn't find out if I had another glimpse at it. Not tonight, right? If I slipped the manuscript back into the drawer tomorrow morning before she arrived—if she came to work—she would never know. With a deft push and a metallic clank, I closed the drawer and returned to the front desk, placing the stack of paper next to my keyboard and putting on a professional smile.

"Excuse me. How can I help you?"

The customer smiled back and handed me several books to check out without complaining about the delay. While I scanned the labels, I kept glancing at the manuscript. To judge by the place where I had found it, it could only be Conny's. I couldn't imagine that she would keep someone else's work hidden in her desk, not without a sound reason. But while my discovery might explain why Luca was bound to the library, I couldn't fathom why Cat hadn't told me straight away. I needed to talk to him, but this wasn't possible during the busy hours of the library. I needed to be patient and wait for the evening.

When most customers had left, the feline appeared in his favourite spot on the desk as if on cue, making me jump anyway.

"You called, my lady?"

"Huh—I think I didn't, unless you read my mind."

His smug grin had me fear the worst. "That would be a nice talent. Alas, I only felt a pull, earlier, as if someone were calling my name. You seemed the most likely candidate."

I glanced around, but no customers were within earshot. "Okay, I guess I can live with such a small amount of mind reading, since I was thinking of you." I waved the manuscript in front of his nose. "What can you tell me about this?"

He shrank back. "Hey, keep your paper wad away from my whiskers and calm down. What's that supposed to be?"

I sighed and showed him the title page. "As we both know, I can't touch you, and neither can these pages. This is a manuscript called Luca's Dream. It was here in the library all the time, so why didn't you tell me about it?"

He squinted at the paper with quivering whiskers. "Because I didn't know it existed. Well, I kind of suspected it must exist, and I told you as much. But I had no clue the author might have hidden it in the library itself. Where did you find it?"

"In Conny's desk, when I went for the first aid kit this afternoon." Sudden suspicion flooded my mind. "Was her accident your responsibility? Another weird measure to advance the relationship between Conny and Paco?"

Cat's stare made me think of daggers piercing my skin. "How dare you even think I'd do something mean like this?" He turned aside, ignoring me.

"Well, I have to ask, don't I? These shelves didn't break down for no reason, and I'd rather know who builds death traps in my workplace."

He lifted his chin and gave me an indignant stare. "Fair, but aside from not being corporeal enough in your world to manipulate a shelf, it's usually you who does the sorting back of the books. I'd hardly want to hurt the one interesting person here, the only regular I can lead a serious conversation with."

"Right. So who was it? Someone with a grudge on Conny?"

"How could anyone have suspected Conny would take over your part of the job today?"

I slumped back in my chair. "True. So it must have been the kids, like Paco suggested. They might have aimed this at me or him, or just having a twisted version of careless fun."

Cat stretched a paw and studied his extended claws before he answered. "Your guess is as good as mine. Unless the furniture was faulty, of course."

"Hm, we cannot exclude this option either, I guess." I still pondered his idea when a young woman approached with a stack of books and he faded away.

The student placed her load on the spot where Cat had lounged mere seconds ago. "I need an interpreted classic, too. Can I go in and get it, please?"

"Sorry, that area is closed. It's dangerous since a shelf broke earlier this afternoon and hurt my colleague. We'd rather not have another accident before the place is secured and we know more about the damage."

A deep fold formed on her forehead. "I'm sorry for your colleague, but would you allow me to fetch the book at my risk? My essay about it is due early next week, so I'm afraid I'm in a hurry."

I remembered all too well how it was to procrastinate until a task was almost overdue. Happy, carefree student days, when my world turned around contemporary literature—and Oliver. With a hidden sigh, I asked her to follow me.

Outside the barrier, I stopped. "You stay here, and if you see something moving, cry out. And if I get buried beneath another avalanche of books and shelves, call an ambulance, please."

She took in the destruction and nodded, looking pale in the face. While she supervised me from the entrance of the aisle, I passed the zone of destruction to fetch the commented version of Shakespeare's Midsummer Night's Dream, pulling the book out in fear the heavy load on the shelf would tumble and hit me. But it didn't budge and let me pick off the demanded book. I clutched the book against my chest and took a deep breath before I moved back past the broken shelf and scattered books with wary steps. Then something caught my eye, and I hesitated. To the right of the fallen shelves, I couldn't help noticing half a dozen of metal pegs aligned at eye level in front of the works of Charles Dickens.

Paco had been right, suspecting the kids, and with so many pegs withdrawn, there were more accidents waiting to happen. The hairs on my neck stood on edge as I hurried to clamber over the sitting cubes and pressed the book into the woman's hands. "Here you go. I hope that's all you need from this part of the library."

She frowned. "Yes, thanks. You look as if you've seen a ghost in there."

"I wish—sometimes, ghosts are easier to deal with than real people." At her puzzled expression, I felt in need to add an explanation. "We had a class of teenagers here earlier, and it seems some kid found it funny to remove several shelf pegs. I will have to find out where before someone else gets hurt, but I don't want to do that on my own."

"Fair enough. I hope your colleague will be fine."

"Thanks, me too. Shall I check these out for you?" I pointed at her books.

She nodded and smiled. "Yes please, and thanks a lot for taking the trouble to help me."

"It's fine. I've been there, done that. Good luck with the essay."

Fortunately, she was my last customer, and while she packed her loans into her bag, I shut down the computer system and stowed the mysterious manuscript in my backpack. A quick glance into the office where I turned off the lights, and I was ready to leave even before her. I would come in early Saturday morning to stow the returns and help Paco with the repairs. For once, I had no intention of lingering in the empty library.

Without waiting for Luca or Cat to drop by, I left together with the student, wished her a good weekend, and locked the door behind us, glad to leave the place for the day. After all, I had a mission—and a story to read.

During dinner, curiosity got the best of me. I shoved my half-empty plate of pasta aside to make room for the manuscript and started reading. Soon, I was engrossed with the story and had to force myself to take a break and finish my dinner.

The tale was about of a young man out of university and hunting for a job, a meaning in adult life, and true love. This rang a chord with me, but what made the story stand out was the point of view taken by the author. It was written from the point of view of a snarky kitten who ended up being adopted by Luca—or the other way round. The unusual perspective made the read quite funny. Three chapters in, I interrupted to make a coffee and contemplate the story and its implications.

What had Conny driven to write this story—if she was the author? It was obvious the writer had experienced the magic of the library first hand. The sarcasm and quirks of the kitten reminded me so much of Cat. This couldn't be coincidence, and I was more and more convinced that my colleague must be the author. Or perhaps someone close to her? Her daughter Amber, perhaps? No, while the girl possessed the imagination needed to invent the story, she was too young to deliver such a realistic take on the struggles of a young adult finding their steps in a weird and overwhelming world. It must be Conny—why else would she keep the manuscript hidden in her desk? But when had she written it? She didn't see Cat and Luca these days, so perhaps this was an old thing?

I read on past my usual bedtime and finished the story well after midnight. My suspicion had been right, it had no proper ending and I couldn't imagine where the writer planned to take the story next. There were too many loose ends to be sure, and the cryptic notes didn't tell me much.

With a sigh, I stowed the manuscript in an envelope and went to bed. Fifteen minutes later, I was up again, checking my phone for the address of the rehab clinic where Marjorie lodged. It was time I payed a visit to my absent boss and mentor.