Old Quarter

Ruben Okafor

In-world day

Chapters

Recent moments

Day 77
Ruben sits at the library's heavy oak table, his fingers tracing the clinical diagrams in a worn volume of 'Diagnostic Imaging.' The back of his neck feels like a pulled wire, taut and humming with a dull, persistent heat. He pauses to rub his lower spine, his knuckles whitening against his coat, and ignores the sound of a nearby student aggressively turning pages. He makes a small, neat mark in his notebook with a pencil, his handwriting surprisingly steady for a man whose body feels like a collapsing structure.
Day 77
Ruben stands by the tall, arched window of the Almsgate Library, watching the rain slick the cobblestones of the Old Quarter. He pulls the crumpled medical bill from his pocket, smoothing the paper against his thigh until his knuckles ache from the pressure. 'It’s a long walk home in this downpour, Ruben,' Elias remarks, clicking off the desk lamp as the library begins its final transition to darkness. Ruben doesn't turn, his reflection ghostly against the glass; he simply tucks the bill back into his wallet, his jaw tight. 'I’ve walked through worse, Elias,' he says, turning to face the empty room with a measured, careful grace.
Day 77
Ruben sits in the dim light of the library annex, watching the ink blot on his notebook bleed into the fiber of the page. The fluorescent tube above him flickers, casting his hands in a rhythmic, stuttering shadow. He stops writing and presses the palm of his hand against his lower back, his breath hitching as he waits for the sharpest flare of pain to pass. 'Closing time in ten minutes, Ruben,' Elias calls out from the main desk, his voice echoing through the hollow room. Ruben doesn't answer, merely tucking his pen into his jacket pocket and closing his eyes to memorize the diagram of the L4-L5 vertebrae before the house lights go dark.
Day 76
Ruben walks into the Almsgate Library, the air inside smelling of floor wax and cooling radiator metal. He bypasses the main desk, his stride cautious but steady, and makes straight for the medical reference section to return his stack of heavy volumes. As he slides a textbook onto the shelf, he finds his hand shaking; he pulls it back, closes his fist tight, and leans his forehead against the cool, painted metal of the bookshelf until the tremor subsides. When he finally turns, he spots Elias, the librarian, watching him from the end of the aisle with an uncharacteristic, pitying look. Ruben ignores him, pivots with a sharp, controlled inhale, and heads for the exit without checking out anything new.
Day 76
Ruben walks into the Almsgate Library, the air inside smelling of old binding glue and damp wool. He moves straight to the circulation desk, setting his library card down alongside a crumpled pamphlet for a local pain management clinic. Leo, the clerk with wire-rimmed glasses, peers over the desk and stops typing. 'You're looking pretty stiff today, Ruben,' Leo says, his tone softening into genuine concern. Ruben just rests his heavy hands on the counter, knuckles white, and murmurs, 'Just need the quietest corner you've got today, Leo—and maybe a glass of water if the fountain is still running cold.'