The secrets of Ms. Jackson, and the library.

Ms. Jackson worked at the library.  She always wore green.  She had naturally black, smooth hair, and her lips were soft like baked cinnamon apples.  She always came to work exactly five minutes early.  She was quiet and kind.  On the surface, everything about Ms. Jackson was perfectly normal.  She brushed her teeth regularly.  She attended the gym most every night.  She enjoyed eating ice cream.  There was one thing about Ms. Jackson, though, that was mysterious.  She had an unusual ritual that she would perform each night as she closed the library.  She would dance up and down each row of books and sing a song to them.  A lullaby.  She imagined the books sighing, their spines relaxing.  She imagined her voice to be a magical mist that would fall in shimmering layers onto the books, preparing them to sleep until the next morning.  There was nothing extraordinary about Ms. Jackson's voice, but the books looked forward to hearing it.  Their pages would hum, and their words would wiggle impatiently.  As soon as her song began, every book in that dusty, cool library would exhale and their minds would quickly stop whirring.  When each book was asleep, Ms. Jackson would pick up her worn, leather purse and silently exit the library.