Chicago Library Locations Novels & Stories

"Let us go meet her." Chicago was a five hour drive. Liam drove. Anna sat in the back. I navigated. The rain followed us the whole way. Grey skies. Grey roads. Grey everything. The bookstore was called "Pages." It sat on a corner between a coffee shop and a flower store. The windows were full of bestsellers. A sign on the door said "Open." We walked in. Bells jingled. The smell of paper and old wood wrapped around me. Shelves stretched to the ceiling. A cat slept on a pile of romance novels.

The Detroit Public Library on Woodward Avenue swallows the press conference whole. Julian chose the old main branch with its Italian Renaissance columns and vaulted ceilings painted by Edwin Blashfield, murals showing Detroit rising from fire and industry. A place built to hold stories, he told me last night. A place where truth belongs.

I want to know the answers. So the next day I went to a library inside the university. I want to know the history of Chicago. I would have had a chance to know that in case the book lent me got lost inside the room. I looked for it all over the corner but nothing. "What book are you looking for, miss?" I was startled by the sudden appearance of a tall woman next to me. She was a few inches taller than me and had long red hair, she dyed her hair and did a hair treatment because it was so straight.