"Who are you?" the man asks me as he stares in awe at the many books that line the ever moving shelves. He sets his hat down on the table by the doorway, I hope he doesn't particularly care for it.

"I wouldn't set that hat there if I were you," I say in an attempt to stop the inevitable, but as the man turns back to grab it the hat is already gone. "Oh well, perhaps it'll turn up," I say as the man blinks in astonishment. "Now, you're here for something, surely you are. No one ever comes here unless they're looking for something."

"N-no," the man stutters "I just wanted to use the restroom. Who are you? What is this place?"

"If you'd wanted to use the restroom you would have gone there, instead you came here, to my home." I turn and gesture to the books, and they freeze momentarily while I add, "So what is it you are looking for?"

The man stumbles, and a chair appears to catch him as he falls backwards, "Morris must have spiked my coffee, the bastard." As he says this coffee appears on a small table at his side. The man jumps as he sees it. "What the hell is going on."

He's going to be a difficult one, the ones that think they're drugged always are. "Here," I say as I sit, a chair appearing to catch me. "Let's start a little more simply," I grab my pipe out of the air, a gentle smoke puffing off the top of the lit tobacco, "What is your name?"

"S-Sebastian, Sebastian Smith," he continues to stutter.

"Alright Sebastian, I haven't met someone with that name in almost a century, your parents must be old fashioned. Try the coffee, I promise it's not been drugged, the Morris you spoke of has never been here and likely never will be."

He sips tentatively from the coffee before asking, "Why am I here?" he puts the cup back on the table, which was starting to wander off, "Where is this place?"

"This," I take a few puffs from my pipe, " is a library, couldn't you tell from all the books?" as if in response a few of the books leap from the shelf and begin to flap around us, their pages rustling in the breeze they made. "As for why you're here I truly don't know, that's why I asked you." I take a few more puffs. "You must be looking for something, some piece of knowledge, otherwise why would you come to a library?"

The man stares in a combination of bewilderment and wonder at the books as they flapped about.

"Oh don't mind the histories, they just want someone to read them," I say, shooing away a history on St. Cuthbert as it strayed to close to my face. "Nobody is ever here for history though, now the books on the future on the other hand..." I trail off. Most of the people who come through my library are looking to understand the future, some want to know who they will marry, others how their investments will do and how they can make more money, very few sought to learn from the past.

"I guess, since there are books on the future, this isn't a normal library?" The man asks.

"Finally, a thought, I was beginning to wonder if you could have them Sebastian," he turns red with embarrassment and perhaps a subtle anger, "No this isn't a normal library, surely the furniture and the flying books gave it away, that and the fact that you apparently entered through a bathroom door. You get one question, and there will almost certainly be a book here that can answer it, so ask and leave me to my books." One does not become a master of a library beyond the veil by liking company.

"I don't know what I want, I just want to be happy," Sebastian begins, but I cut him off.

"Stop there, that's enough," Nobody had ever asked for the secret to happiness before, and I was curious how the library would answer, most of the fools that came through here already thought they knew what would make them happy.

As Sebastian falls silent a book comes flapping through the air, it is a simple one, plainly bound with cloth, but it seems to hum with importance. It lands in Sebastian's lap.

"Go on," I prompt, "Open it."

Sebastian opens the book, not at the beginning, but towards the middle, and a soft warm glow envelops him. As he reads further his face lightens, and he begins to turn transparent. The further he reads, the wider his smile gets, and the less substantial he becomes. Until at last he closes the book, and with the soft sound of the pages closing, he vanishes completely.