The Cathedral

By Peter Bowden

The girl walked through the tall doors of the library as if stepping into a cathedral. Dust floated in the shafts of morning light, drifting down like slow snow. Her shoes clicked softly against the tiled floor. She moved straight to the shelves, her hands brushing the spines as if greeting old friends by touch. Every book seemed to wait for her, patient and quiet, ready to speak when opened.

She had one book she always returned to, tucked on a lower shelf near the back—a worn adventure about a boy who sailed across endless seas, fought storms, and found islands no map dared to show. She read it so often the pages curled at the edges, but each time it felt new. The words rose up like waves, carrying her away from the small town outside the library walls. She was gone, sailing with him, her heart beating with the crash of the sea.

Yet no matter how far the story took her, she always came back. Back to the smell of ink and paper, back to the quiet hush where the world held its breath. For her, the library wasn’t just a building; it was a harbor. And the books, her best companions, never failed her. She left with her adventure tucked under her arm, knowing tomorrow she would return, ready again to set sail.


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