There is a developmentally disabled volunteer who has been working here for at least a few years now. I've written about her before. She likes to tell stories about her family as if you are very familiar with all these people you have never heard of and will delight with her in their crazy antics. But we're not talking about one of those stories now. Indeed, our purview today is even smaller that.
I was shelving up in fiction and this volunteer came around the corner mumbling to herself, looking for something on a request list. Absorbed as she was, she was surprised to see me shelving there.
"When did you sneak in here?" She exclaimed.
"The mid nineties." I replied.
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