"The library."
"The what?"
Too late. Before Oliver could protest, his friend already sprinted toward the old, white building.
The streets were deserted. Though not too far from the busy 3rd Street and Western, the library radiated an air of reverence. With the sun glaring behind it, the library's white walls appeared blue, smudged with dirt and blocks of painted over graffiti. Oliver looked up at the old library. His stomach sunk. He wasn't too fond of books.
He trudged up the steps. The heavy, wooden door creaked, interrupting only the echo of footsteps. Walking past the children's and the comic book section, Oliver found his friend staring blankly at an empty aisle. Oliver ran up behind him, but as he approached closer, he felt the air suffocating him.
Charon stood motionless, focused on an empty spot on the floor. The towering bookshelves cast a gray shadow on him, preventing his own shadow from taking form. Oliver looked up to his friend's back, but for some reason Charon seemed to have lost his height.
A soft whisper, almost the sound of moving air, interrupted the choking silence.
"Not here."
Oliver walked up next to his friend but still couldn't see his face in the dim light. "Hey."
No response.
"Charon."
Sighing, Oliver planted himself on the brown carpet, stared at the empty spot on the floor, accompanying only silence.
--------
Charon sprinted across the sidewalks, his blue hair ruffling in the wind. He had dyed it a few months ago to anger his parents, and now he ran away from them, tired of their concern and pity. It had been so long since he had run. Out of breath and eager to escape reality, he ran to the only one that didn't know. He heard Oliver's footsteps not far behind. Never before had he outrun Oliver. But today was different.
He broke through the library doors, his feet instinctively taking him to the usual spot.
The library ceiling towered high and domed in the center. Sunlight illuminated the heart of the library, shining the center desk with a radiant light. Walking past a row of out-dated computers and the out of order copy machine, Charon stepped into the back of the library.
The non-fiction section had no windows. A cart of books was left unattended at the first shelf. The tall bookshelves, covered in a thin layer of dust, formed unwelcoming , narrow passageways.
Empty.
No, no, no, that can't be right. He scanned the little library for a glint of red hair.
Not here.
His gaze fell onto the dark bookshelves and down towards the floor. The carpet was an ugly faded brown. The walls of books silently watched him, a steady, pitying gaze. He felt the movement of shadows as his heart thumped loudly in his ears.
The world turned gray.
Then only silence.
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