The library contained only old and donated books with none for children. There was no one when I went.
I took a copy of Walter Scott's poems and another one not knowing what to take. There was no register to record.
When the smell of old books assailed my dad’s nose, he asked me where I got them.
"Are you a member?"
"It is free"
"Did the librarian lend these for a 10 year old?"
"I brought them .He was not there"“You petty thief, return them tomorrow with a fine of 10 rupees and show me the receipt.
Fiction in 100 words written for Writetribe Wednesday. This time the prompt was the smell of old books.