I know something is different as I hopscotch over rubble.
A sharp mechanical sound cuts through the hum of male voices. The heavy plastic sheeting that protects the library from the elements is my very own looking glass. As I step through it, I find a whole bevy of strange creatures, muscled men with tools and boots, as if they stepped from the wall and became flesh.
They spare me a few glances, a little curious, mostly wary, before going about their work. It’s almost noon, and though I only got up and showered an hour ago, the sheen of sweat on their brows tells me they’ve been at this a long time. They have hard hats on their heads and smudges on their dark shirts.
“Harper.” The low voice makes me jolt.
I turn to face Sutton, who looks more like the old version of himself, the one I
