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Smoke hung so thick in the library's rafters that she could read words in it.


Smoke hung so thick in the library’s rafters that she could read the words in it. She wondered briefly if the words were like ghosts-fleeting memories of what once was-as she crawled across the floor. But she supposed they weren’t, since they currently said to “Go left at JL-JM,”  which she promptly did. It was still dark, and she could hear other people panicking, trying to remember where the door is. She wanted to yell out “follow me” but she was afraid she’d suck in too much smoke herself.  
Instead, she looked up again. The smoke told her to “ Go right at the micro…” but then it got wispy.  The firemen must be arriving. She assumed it meant “microfiche,” and sure enough, there it was. Her lungs were starting to burn, and her hair was plastered to her, but now she could see the door, and others.  It looked like most of them were on their way to safety. She tried not to think about the ones she had heard in the back. 
As she crossed the children’s area,  a little girl was there, with dark pigtails.  The child had passed out, probably from the smoke, but since she could see the door, she heaved her up onto her back.  She was going to have to make a run for it, for them both. She looked up. “RUN!” it read, so she pulled herself up, made sure she had a good grasp on the kid, and ran half-holding her breath all the way to the door without stopping, busted through into the daylight, and then it was all chaos.
She was lauded as a hero, but she stood outside of the library, looking for signs. The library had saved her, and others, afterall. So, she told it  guessed she’d have to put all of this new celebrity into rebuilding. And, perhaps it was nothing. But, perhaps not. She thought she had seen a little puff, like a sigh of happiness.

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