Muriel wasn’t very good with names.
She knew names. Just not where they should be.
Words she loved. Words. And books.
She worked the late shift at the library. In the archives, with all the ancient tomes. Ancient words. Ancient smells.
She didn’t like the work, but she liked the words. And the sneaky opportunities she got to play her favourite music on her discreet earphones when she was alone, with the words around her.
She loved ‘The Road To Hell’, by Chris de Burgh. She’d play it over and over again, humming gently to herself.
Many a time she hadn’t heard the late manager, Mr Grange, coughing loudly behind her, as she was being transported through her evening by her Chris.
Last night was no exception.
“Miss Munro!” Spluttered the unhappy manager. “You are in a library!”
Muriel heard him this time, and clicked the music off. Mr Grange ignored what she’d done, instead pointing over to three people who were in one of the aisles. Muriel hadn’t noticed them enter the archives.
“How long have they been here, Miss Munro?” Mr Grange was more stern than usual.
“Erm…” it was Muriel’s turn to splutter. She blushed and felt her eyes fill with tears. She didn’t like confrontation. She liked to be hidden away. She always tried her best to be invisible. She managed it, most of the time.
Mr Grange shook his head as he walked toward the three rowdy lads who were shoving and pushing each other in the aisle.
“This is a library!” Muriel heard him say, but she couldn’t quite make out what the lads said in return. She watched Mr Grange splutter passed her desk as he sped out of the archives.
Muriel pulled her mousy brown hair back behind her ear, removed her earphones, straightened her glasses and stood up. She walked over to the three lads, who had now started throwing some of the older books between them.
She noticed how pale the three were. How fair haired, and young, yet their eyes seemed years older. They stared at her as she approached.
Strangely, as she approached the three, some of the lyrics to The Road To Hell came clearly to her in her mind, in particular ‘It’s all just bits of paper, flying away from you’, and ‘This is the road to hell’. Over and over.
The lads seemed to be throwing the books around her, almost rhythmically, hypnotically. Muriel felt as though she was floating with the pages of the ancient books as they slowly swirled around her.
Muriel blinked and looked up from her desk. She looked to the aisle, which was now deserted. All books neatly on the shelves.
She felt a tender itch on her neck, and rubbed the area with her index finger. It was sore, a small cut. She had a tiny droplet of blood on her finger. She reached into the drawer of her desk and took out a mirror. She was about to look into it, but as it was now the end of her shift, she decided to leave it for later.
She locked the door to the archives, and walked passed Mr Grange on her way out.
He spluttered.
“Miss Munro… your hair… your skin…” Muriel glanced at him, said good night and left the library.
That was last night.
Tonight, Muriel arrived to work early. She wore her new blonde hair very loose, and had chosen to go to work in a figure-hugging red velvet, low cut dress, and matching red heels.
Mr Grange spluttered ferociously as she entered the library.
“Miss Munro! This -“ Muriel held up her right index finger and interrupted Mr Grange.
“Mrs” She corrected. “I’ve changed.” She said nothing else, and simply stared as she made her way, gracefully, up to the archives.
She put in her earphones as she reached her desk, and pressed play on her new favourite tune. Chris Rea’s ‘The Lady In Red’.
***
Some changes take a little longer than others, I suppose. Did you guess that last night’s portrait of Mrs Munro was actually of this librarian? Me neither.


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