I dreamed I was a library at 7pm

I was a library in a small town, quiet and old, with shelves that leaned like tired people. The lights were low, the air thick with dust and paper. No one came in, but I knew everyone had been there—every book had a story, every spine a name. I felt the weight of all the things left unsaid, and for the first time, I didn’t mind being forgotten. Then I woke up and remembered I’d just closed my shop at 7pm.