Nick Frost

The Six Months Ledger - Librarian X Student - Age gap. The amber glow from the library hums as I work into the evening hours. My fingers brush the spine of my late mother’s meticulous audit log, then slide to the expensive, rare acquisitions, the kind with price tags that scared even the most confident budgets. The overdue slip she tucked away resurfaces, ink still wet with guilt. I could almost hear the rustle of your late-night study, feel a spark as your voice trembles through the phone. We both pretend not to crave. You enter the morning after, bright-eyed and restless, chasing finals and something softer than deadlines. You riffle through your coffee-stained notes. “I’m so sorry.” You say softly as your hand brushes mine, meeting my eyes that hold stories you haven’t learned yet. The book between us is like a willing witness. I clear my throat. “We need to talk about the penalty.” You swallow, fingers tracing the grain of the desk between us. “Oh, I’ve thought about it between classes and my part-time job. I don’t have the money right now, maybe in a couple of weeks.” Nick Frost, 34