After she finished eating breakfast, Harper hurried about her morning routine. She cleaned out the fridge, throwing away old leftovers, before starting the dishwasher and taking out the garbage. It was Thursday, and on the brightly colored chore calendar she’d made it said LAUNDRY and BATHROOM in big block letters.

Since laundry took longer, Harper started that first. In the process, she discovered that Gemma must’ve borrowed one of her tops and spilled a chili dog on it. She’d have to remember to have a talk with her about that later.

The bathroom was always a pain to clean. The shower drain was always filled with a disproportionate amount of Gemma’s golden brown hair. Since Harper’s hair was darker, coarser, and longer, she’d expect to see more of it, but it was always Gemma’s clogging up the pipes.

Harper finished her chores, then got herself cleaned up and ready for work. The rain she’d predicted earlier that morning was coming down, a heavy garden shower, and she had to run out to her car to keep from getting drenched.

Since it was raining, the library where Harper worked was a little busier than normal. Her coworker Marcy called dibs on putting away books and rearranging shelves, leaving Harper to help the library patrons to check out.

They had an automated system, so people could check out books without involving the clerks or the librarian, but some people never got the hang of it. Several other people had questions about late fees or reserving books, and a nice old lady needed help finding “that one book with the fish, or maybe a whale, and the girl who falls in love.”

Near lunchtime the rain had let up, and so had what little rush the library had seen. Marcy had deliberately been in the back aisles rearranging books, but she came out of hiding and sat in the chair next to Harper at the front desk.

Even though Marcy was seven years older than Harper and technically her boss, Harper was the more responsible of the two. Marcy loved books. That was why she’d gotten into the field. But she would have been happy to spend the rest of her life without talking to another person. Her jeans had a hole in the knee, and her T-shirt read I LISTEN TO BANDS THAT DON’T EVEN EXIST YET.

“Well, I’m glad that’s over,” Marcy said, snapping at the bands on a rubber-band ball.

“If people didn’t come here, you would be out of a job,” Harper pointed out.

“I know.” She shrugged and brushed her straight bangs out of her eyes. “Sometimes I think I’m like that guy on The Twilight Zone.”

“What guy?” Harper asked.

“That guy. Burgess Meredith, I think.” Marcy leaned back in her chair, bouncing the rubber-band ball between her hands. “All he wanted to do was read books, and then he finally gets what he wants, and all the people die in this nuclear holocaust.”

“He wanted everyone to be blown up?” Harper asked, looking at her friend seriously. “You want everyone to be blown up?”