Maire was shocked by her impulses, and the ease she felt when burning the books. Book after book, Marie threw them into the fire. It felt good. Marie didn't want to the books to end, she just grabbed and threw and grabbed and threw.
It seemed like nothing but a blur later that evening. Marie went about her activities as if nothing had changed. She played a vinyl and ate some turkey or dinner.
The next morning Marie woke to a scream. By now Marie was used to prostitutes screaming periodically throughout the day, and didn't think much of the startle.
Maire didn't leave her apartment until later that night. She didn't notice anything at first, but after walking down two blocks she noticed billows of smoke rising from where the library used to be. Used to be.
"Oh, no," Marie thought to herself and began to run.
The library remained as nothing but chard's of burnt wood and a few scattered book covers. The sounds of a ambulance rang in the distance and were getting closer. Marie hoped, literally hoped more than anything that nobody was burning.
As the ambulance pulled two people ran out and began searching. Marie just stood and watched. After a few minutes there was a body. Small and limp. Marie just watched.
The body was definitely dead. The ambulance drove away with it's siren playing loudly. Marie still remained unmoved. This was the second death she had witnessed and it was too much.
Wilshire was an escape from her grandfather's death, but death seemed to find her again.
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