Need • Zarry

1. The library

I SIT and look out upon all the sorrows of the world, and upon all oppression and shame; I hear secret convulsive sobs from young men, at anguish with themselves, remorseful after deeds done; I see, in low life, the mother misused by her children, dying, neglected, gaunt, desperate;
I see the wife misused by her husband-I see the treacherous seducer of young women; I mark the ranklings of jealousy and unrequited love, attempted to be hid-I see these sights on the earth; I see the workings of battle, pestilence, tyranny-I see martyrs and prisoners; I observe a famine at sea-I observe the sailors casting lots who shall be kill'd, to preserve the lives of the rest; I observe the slights and degradations cast by arrogant persons upon laborers, the poor, and upon negroes, and the like; All these-All the meanness and agony without end, I sitting, look out upon, see, hear, and am silent.

As Harry's green eyes scanned the words of the poem I Sit and Look Out by Walt Whitman, he felt this striking irony cast itself upon him because he, too, merely sat and looked out at the world as if he wasn't really a part of it, and more often than not, fell silent. And it was always this way, just slinking along through life on this mundane path, one that was laid out for him. But for Harry nothing was ever different; nothing was ever out of the ordinary or shocking, a quick turn, a surprise.

While other people went through these fluctuating ups and downs or lost a loved one, experienced an epiphany, traveled the world, or fell in love with the wrong person, only to end up in the cold pit of hell that was heartbreak, Harry just went about his days with the same routines, the same friends, the same job at Montclair Library, and lately he was starting to notice it more, to process it, and to find it that was becoming increasingly boring.

Montclair, Pennsylvania wasn't exactly an exciting town, either. It was small, too small in fact, and the locals all knew each other, inserted themselves in everyone's business and doing what they do best; gossip. This cruel small town lived on gossip, thrived on it, but Harry was never a part of these hushed whispers behind closed doors.

He was considered the town's peacekeeper, the neutral party, Switzerland. He kept his mouth shut, his opinions to himself, nodded politely at the neighbors and the batty old ladies who never stopped talking and kept on; straight and unproblematic. Harry was overly polite at times, a gentleman, still believed in chivalry and kindness. He never got in trouble in school as a child, never even achieved a grade lower than a B+ and did absolutely everything by the books.

And thus his life became books, quite literally. He went to Liberty, a Christian University, the one that both of his parents attended, just a few miles east of Montclair and he studied literature there, which lead him to pursue his career in library science. And Harry remembered when his best friend and former roommate from Liberty, James, once asked him what it was about reading that he loved so much, and Harry simply replied; it's exciting.

And perhaps to someone who never really read a book that they fell in love with, they wouldn't quite understand how sitting in a room with one in between their hands could be such a thrill. But to Harry he embarked on some of his greatest adventures. In a book he was able to leave his monotonous life and dive into the life of another, exploring these intricate worlds and becoming a part of them; living out some alternate reality that was more appealing than his own.

But his love for reading had completely taken ahold of his life, so much to the point where his introversion kept him boxed in to the corner of his home in his favorite Sasha blue velvet arm chair every Friday night instead of going out, hitting the local bars or parties, where he could possibly meet somebody, go on a date. His romantic life was practically nonexistent and it had become novels he read, the passion between star crossed lovers, but he didn't know what that felt like. He had never been in love. And James would often tell him: