I dreamed I was the last librarian in a city of silence

I stood in a library that stretched into the sky, shelves endless, books all blank. No one had come in years. I kept the lights on just for the smell—old paper, dust, the faint ghost of ink. A child wandered in once, barefoot, holding a book with no title. She looked at me and said, 'It’s not empty if you’re reading it.' Then she vanished. I still don’t know if I woke up or if I’m still waiting for someone to return.