#octoberwritingchallenge : Smoke hung so thick in the library’s rafter that she could read words in it

I think people who smoke in a public place without asking permission beforehand are inconsiderate bastards. I don’t particularly care when someone wants to block their respiratory system with nicotine, but others should have a choice not to become a secondary addict. I should have a choice whether to inhale the fresh air or the waste of their entertainment.

So you see, it isn’t unreasonable for me to go through every nook of this old library in town, then end up in the attic just to find who is the culprit. Someone, or anyone at this stage who smokes like a chimney and filling my comfort sanctuary with fog so thick, I could feel that my own teary eyes threatening to bail out. Even the librarian gave up halfway and decided to contact the fire brigade to get some tips while asking if one of their personnel would be able to come and help.

Perhaps, after all the ruckus, I will suggest the council to install some sort of fire alarm in this ancient building. Let it be someone else’s problem when the machine is triggered and hopefully, some fines would discourage them to try it again.

Despite being petite, my temper is nasty. I was so ready to scream, kick and if the situation allows, spit. But when my orbs are able to adapt in the haze, what welcomed me almost made me lost the grip on the wobbly stairs.

HELP

What the actual hell?

Am I starting to hallucinate after inhaling this much smoke?

Blinking doesn’t help. My fingers reach the spot, but there is nothing that I could touch other than air. The words written on the surface insist to exist. Though, within a second, a motion of erasing appeared letter by letter before it was replaced by a longer sentence.

I can see you. Nod, if you can see my writing.

Well, fuck.