This morning, when I arrive at my “office”, which is a particular desk facing the windows in my favorite public library, Milne Public Library, someone else is sitting in my chair. (I sound like the baby bear in Goldilocks.) He’s wearing spotted jeans, grey sneakers and glasses. I try not to glare. He looks furtive, defiant, even though he has no idea that he’s taken my favorite spot. I am forced to settle with my back to the view of my favorite tree, find a longer cord to plug in my computer, put my backpack on the left of my chair instead of the right. Silly, but until the book takes over, these things matter. Once I’m deep into the work, I could be sitting in a tent in the middle of the Gobi desert. Well, not quite, but you get the idea.
Later, the book has me in its grip. I stand up to stretch and discover that the usurper has left. I never heard him go. To move to my usual spot would disturb the spell. I sit down, sink back into the words.
