WHY IS THIS IN THE FILE?

Nobody took responsibility quickly enough.

The library occupied a narrow storefront between a locksmith and a place that repaired vacuum cleaners.

There were no books.

Instead, the shelves held arguments that had stopped before either person was finished.

They were cataloged by subject.

DOMESTIC: dishes, thermostats, guests, towels left on beds.

FAMILY: weddings, inheritances, who started it, who always starts it.

WORKPLACE: credit, schedules, reply-all, the phrase “just circling back.”

You could borrow any argument for two weeks.

The librarian warned patrons not to read them before bed.

“They tend to resume themselves,” she said.

At a small table near the rear, a man opened an argument labeled Restaurant Parking Lot, 2004.

He read one page.

“That’s not what I said,” he whispered.

No one had spoken to him.

A woman checked out Mother / Daughter / Christmas Morning and returned it seven minutes later.

“Too current,” she said.

The most popular section was THINGS I SHOULD HAVE SAID.

There was always a waiting list.

At closing time, the librarian walked the aisles collecting loose sentences.

Some had fallen from their folders.

She put each one into a box marked UNRESOLVED.

The box was already full.

It had always been full.

“Normal” was considered and rejected.

KNOWN ASSOCIATES: readers, loiterers, people who should know better.

PUSH THE WEIRD BUTTON

A clerk has been notified. They are furious.