“Is the rain supposed to clear up by noon, Claire?” he asked, his voice echoing slightly in the high-ceilinged room.
“The radio said we might see some sun after three,” I said, my voice sounding thin even to myself.
I finished his checkout, stamped the slip of paper for the return date, and waited until he walked toward the double doors before I looked at the phone again.
The caption beneath the photograph was short and written in Aurora’s decisive tone.
It read, Another beautiful week at the Grand Haven cottage with the family.
I stared at the word family until the screen timed out and went black.
At noon, the library breakroom was empty, smelling of stale coffee and microwave popcorn from the previous shift.
I sat at the staff computer terminal, my fingers hovering over the keyboard for several seconds before I logged into my personal account.
The gray laser printer in the corner began its noisy warm-up cycle, the internal rollers clicking and whirring as they heated up.
I clicked the print command on the screen, sending the social media image to the machine.
