In my junior year, I began work at the Hackettstown Library. An interesting fact about this building: it is the nearest thing to dust that can still be called a solid. It was built by the Works Progress Administration in 1935, out of what I can only assume are tinker toys and petrified wood. Being a library, it is usually completely devoid of conversation. However, the job of replacing human speech is spectacularly filled by a multitude of other sounds. The lights buzz viciously, the heater grumbles menacingly, you can’t breathe without causing something to creak, and the walls themselves seem to gasp as they emit some unholy gas. This is the perfect place for someone who’s last job was at a Haunted House.
The building, though, is nothing compared to the patrons that frequent it.
