The smell of new and old books filled my nose as I ran my fingers along the spines of the books on the shelf until they found a recognizable bind. Romeo and Juliet, one of my favorites. I grabbed the oh-so-familiar book and walked to the chair I always sat in, the one that was made of red velvet and tucked away in a corner. It seems more excluded, more quiet. I flipped open the book and began to read the words my brain was so accustomed to. I let myself fall back into the familiar story, completely engaged with the words, cut off from everything else around me. Then, I smelt a scent I knew I had smelt before, but never in the library although the past week I have smelled it more which was odd. I never have before.