I dreamed I was a library at 7pm

Not a person in it — just the building, full of books that whispered in dialects I didn’t know I understood. The shelves shifted when no one was looking, rearranging themselves like old friends settling in for a long talk. I felt the weight of every unread sentence, and the quiet terror of being both alive and forgotten. When the lights went out, the spines started glowing — not with light, but with the faint echo of someone’s voice reading aloud, somewhere far away.