Paintings From the Cave (2011)
“Everything about the library was good.
It was warm in the winter and cool in the summer and always dry and safe and Jo never felt the stares at the library. The Biologicals had never been there, might not have even known it existed, for all Jo knew.
She would go to check out books on Saturday afternoon and Wednesday evening. There was an overgrown lilac bush near the reading room windows and Mike and Carter and Betty would crawl under the lowest branches and wait. She kept glancing out the wind...ows, checking that she could always see the dogs hidden under the bush.
Jo loved books. Not as much as her dogs, and in a different way, but pretty close. Every Saturday and Wednesday she’d pick out three books—novels, graphic novels, picture books, poetry, history, short stories, plays, mysteries, travel guides, equipment repair manuals, stories of aliens or myths or true crime. It didn’t matter what she read.
What did matter was that when she read, she could forget how ugly her life was.
She read aloud to the dogs when they were in the woods or in her room with the dresser pushed across the door.MoreLess
It was warm in the winter and cool in the summer and always dry and safe and Jo never felt the stares at the library. The Biologicals had never been there, might not have even known it existed, for all Jo knew.
She would go to check out books on Saturday afternoon and Wednesday evening. There was an overgrown lilac bush near the reading room windows and Mike and Carter and Betty would crawl under the lowest branches and wait. She kept glancing out the wind...ows, checking that she could always see the dogs hidden under the bush.
Jo loved books. Not as much as her dogs, and in a different way, but pretty close. Every Saturday and Wednesday she’d pick out three books—novels, graphic novels, picture books, poetry, history, short stories, plays, mysteries, travel guides, equipment repair manuals, stories of aliens or myths or true crime. It didn’t matter what she read.
What did matter was that when she read, she could forget how ugly her life was.
She read aloud to the dogs when they were in the woods or in her room with the dresser pushed across the door.MoreLess
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