Minor Catastrophes [Open ; Ask]

As Veronica passed by each bookshelf, she touched the wooden surfaces with her free hand before proceeding to use a wipey and clean her fingers. Her movements were mechanical, back straight as a soldier's, and the librarian made a turn. In a few long strides, Veronica reached a shelf and placed one of the books in her arms in its proper place. With careful precision, she ensured each book was perfectly level, before doing the same with the others.

Several minutes passed by and her task was finally done. Just as the African American woman was about to check her reflection, to ensure her appearance was proper and there were no wrinkles or hairs out of place, the sound of books falling and laughter reached her ears. Veronica stiffened and she swiveled around, quickly making her way to the minor catastrophe. But the culprits were long gone, leaving a mess in their wake.

Veronica furrowed her brows and clenched her fingers, taking in a sharp breath. She cursed, "Fuck."

There was more to sort, but the woman was unable to leave the mess of books for later or give the task to another worker. Oh no. She had to do it herself, and immediately. Even the thought of walking away nearly gave her an anxiety attack. And so the well-dressed woman walked forward and knelt down, gathering up the books, setting them aside with unusual precision, considering they were going to be put up anyway.

Hence was the life of Veronica Cooper.