Pulaski Square

I had a moment of panic. Why had I agreed to take on this organizer’s role anyway? How had I let Emily Goodwin talk me into this?—not that anyone had the fortitude to deny Emily anything she demanded. I cleared my throat and said, in a louder, more commanding, I hoped, voice, “Please, ladies and gentlemen. Please take your seats and finish your private conversations quickly. Let’s put a start to this.”

It almost pained me to speak up like this. I was a librarian, after all. I’d lived in a world of preferred silence. I’d come to realize that I didn’t want to live in that world full time, though. The library was full of books on adventure and romance—and, yes, stories of sensuality. I wanted some of that for myself.

To my surprise everyone settled right down. The ad hoc emergency meeting of the residents of Pulaski Square had begun. All eyes were turned to me. All mouths were shut, most displaying at least the hint of a smile. Everyone expecting something from me. I had a sudden need to deliver on that expectation, to be more, different than I’d ever been before.