* `of the wandering ghosts.
for @lackedflaw
It has been his second week of staying in this odd, but fascinating place. To wake up one day with no memories, riddled with injuries he has no recollection of acquiring that healed at an alarming pace and to be told the gist of the new world he is in now would normally cause panic for many people. Yet that frenzied dread born and existed in mere seconds and passed like a quiet storm before he regained his footing. One thing that he knows for sure in his fog-ridden mind is that he's used to the unexpected.
The information he was fed on didn't quite answer the questions that keep blooming in his mind and he finds himself lying on his bed at night, unable to find rest nor peace. Something is making him feeling antsy to no end and staying idle only makes it worse. So his feet took him places, leaving invisible marks on the pavements for hours and hours with unanswered questions still echoing in his head. And somehow it leads him to where he is now, not many days ago. The smell of papers, hum of the electronics and a thin, semi-busy crowd somehow brings a simple comfort to him even if it doesn't quite match the blurry picture in his mind. Another thing Ango learnt about himself is that tasks, orders and inked papers reek familiarity to him.
His past is trailing before him like breadcrumbs and Ango sets his sight to follow it and to learn more about himself, to claim back what he's lost no matter what even if he's ignoring a small warning at the back of his mind that tells him otherwise. It will come with time, the young man tells himself as he pushes a cart full of books. He's spent his sleepless nights trying to learn what he could about the system of the library he works in, memorizing the serial numbers and shelves’ locations that he's close to knowing this massive place like the back of his hands. And now, with an almost practiced ease, the bespectacled man places back the returned books into their rightful home.
Just as he’s about to lose himself to his thoughts, someone called out to him, asking questions one would expect to hear from a library visitor. Ango turns to face them, eyes still trained at the numbers plastered on the book in his hands.
“Yes? How can I help you?”
