empty

she closed her eyes from the cold dim light of the library

she got down on her knees
her hands moving slowly over the leathery spines

she would know when she found it

her fingertips felt the edges of binding
worn cloth
well oiled skin
inlay and golden type
some so old they gave way beneath even her most gentle touch
book after book after book after book after...

it seemed an eternity of searching
her knees were sore and her back ached
she had come to the end of the cases
and found nothing.