As I entered the dank room, the librian could be heard shuffling around the library, dusting and stroking his books like precious antiquites. I nipped up the stairs after seeing the old man let his eyes wander through the darkness, trting to catch an unruly reader distrupting the utter harmony of the staleness. The labrinth of bookshelves rose up as if to greet me. the corner i normally sat in had been dusted recently because the air here felt a little less opressive, i looked behind the beutiful, red, velvet chair and i saw what i was looking for.
The door was concealed by the book case, but only i knew it was here. i looked for 50,000 leuges under the sea and there it was, a polished door knob, oddly shiny in the enclosed bookshelves. Tilly opened the door and went in.
Tilly had made the room her own, with lots of food and her favourite books and her favourite track playing, by iron and wine, flying bird american mouth. It made her feel dreamy and she could spend hours lisening to it. This was her snactuary in a world of square heads.