Well, let's start of the story by saying our protagonist wasn't always so bitter. Like the rest of us, Joshua had had good days and bad days, but sometime after his twenty third birthday he became angrier and angrier at the world. This was not abnormal in the society he lived in, of course. He had many justified reasons to be upset. Some days he would look up at the sky, and realize how murky it looked. He would notice every little crack in the pavement that he walked on each day and each night to get home.
It seemed like everyone, including Joshua, had become victim to the depression that came with war. Even if you didn't pay attention to the news, it was inevitable. Joshua, unfortunately, spent most of time drowning in articles about war, be it current ones or past ones. This was really the only downside he saw to his leisure hours he spent at the library.
Joshua understood that he was much better off than most people, he held a place at his cousin's furniture store as bookkeeper and was still able to receive a monthly paycheck that was always generous and still have some free time to himself. He owned a small loft in the middle of town that he could come home to every night, with a functioning insulation and plumbing. Joshua had more than anyone could ask for. It was because of this that people thought he was self centered.
When he was sad, he wasn't thinking of himself. He was thinking of the rest of the world. Every time he looked out his window and saw another soldier harassing another civilian he felt it. When he walked out his door he could see the dirt soaked in blood, he felt it.
The library was usually safe. Joshua spent more time there than in his own home. Its soft lights and smell of paper was comforting, and its lack of any noticeable population. Soldiers didn't bother with it, since it posed no real threat to them and there wasn't anyone inside who might. Occasionally Joshua would notice someone silently gliding their fingers along the bindings, or sitting in the observatory, staring quietly out at the city below them.
It seemed like everyone, including Joshua, had become victim to the depression that came with war. Even if you didn't pay attention to the news, it was inevitable. Joshua, unfortunately, spent most of time drowning in articles about war, be it current ones or past ones. This was really the only downside he saw to his leisure hours he spent at the library.
Joshua understood that he was much better off than most people, he held a place at his cousin's furniture store as bookkeeper and was still able to receive a monthly paycheck that was always generous and still have some free time to himself. He owned a small loft in the middle of town that he could come home to every night, with a functioning insulation and plumbing. Joshua had more than anyone could ask for. It was because of this that people thought he was self centered.
When he was sad, he wasn't thinking of himself. He was thinking of the rest of the world. Every time he looked out his window and saw another soldier harassing another civilian he felt it. When he walked out his door he could see the dirt soaked in blood, he felt it.
The library was usually safe. Joshua spent more time there than in his own home. Its soft lights and smell of paper was comforting, and its lack of any noticeable population. Soldiers didn't bother with it, since it posed no real threat to them and there wasn't anyone inside who might. Occasionally Joshua would notice someone silently gliding their fingers along the bindings, or sitting in the observatory, staring quietly out at the city below them.
