๎ขe shelves on either side of Nora began to move.ย ๎ขe shelves didnโt change angles, they just kept on sliding horizontally. It was possible that the shelves werenโt moving at all, but the books were, and it wasnโt obvious why or evenย how.ย ๎ขere was no visible mechanism making it happen, and no sound or sight of books falling o๏ฌย the end โ or rather theย startย โ of the shelf.ย ๎ขe books slid by at varying degrees of slowness, depending on the shelf they were on, but none moved fast.
โWhatโs happening?โ
Mrs Elmโs expression sti๏ฌened and her posture straightened, her chin retreating a little into her neck. She took a step closer to Nora and clasped her hands together. โIt is time, my dear, to begin.โ
โIf you donโt mind me asking โ beginย what?โ
โEvery life contains many millions of decisions. Some big, some small. But every time one decision is taken over another, the outcomes di๏ฌer. An irreversible variation occurs, which in turn leads to further variations.ย ๎ขese books are portals to all the lives you could be living.โ
โWhat?โ
โYou have as many lives as you have possibilities.ย ๎ขere are lives where you make di๏ฌerent choices. And those choices lead to di๏ฌerent outcomes. If you had done just one thing di๏ฌerently, you would have a di๏ฌerent life story. And they all exist in the Midnight Library.ย ๎ขey are all as real as this life.โ
โParallel lives?โ
โNot always parallel. Some are more . . .ย perpendicular. So, do you want to live a life you could be living? Do you want to do something di๏ฌerently? Is there anything you wish to change? Did you do anything wrong?โ
๎ขat was an easy one. โYes. Absolutely everything.โ
๎ขe answer seemed to tickle the librarianโs nose.
Mrs Elm quickly rummaged for the paper tissue that was stu๏ฌed up the inside sleeve of her polo neck. She brought it quickly to her face and sneezed into it.
โBless you,โ said Nora, watching as the tissue disappeared from the librarianโs hands the moment sheโd ๏ฌnished using it, through some strange and hygienic magic.
โDonโt worry. Tissues are like lives.ย ๎ขere are always more.โ Mrs Elm returned to her train of thought. โDoing one thing di๏ฌerently is o๎en the same as doingย everythingย di๏ฌerently. Actions canโt be reversed within a lifetime, however much we try . . . But you are no longerย withinย a lifetime. You have popped outside.ย ๎ขis is your opportunity, Nora, to see how things could be.โ
๎ปis canโt be real, Nora thought to herself.
Mrs Elm seemed to know what she was thinking.
โOh, it is real, Nora Seed. But it is not quite reality as you understand it. For want of a better word, it isย in-between. It is not life. It is not death. It is not the real world in a conventional sense. But nor is it a dream. It isnโt one thing or another. It is, in short, the Midnight Library.โ
๎ขe slow-moving shelves came to a halt. Nora noticed that on one of the shelves, to her right, at shoulder height, there was a large gap. All the other areas of the shelves around her had the books tightly pressed side-by-side, but here, lying ๏ฌat on the thin, white shelf, there was only one book.
And this book wasnโt green like the others. It was grey. As grey as the stone of the front of the building when she had seen it through the mist.
Mrs Elm took the book from the shelf and handed it to Nora. She had a slight look of anticipatory pride, as if sheโd handed her a Christmas present.
It had seemed light when Mrs Elm was holding it, but it was far heavier than it looked. Nora went to open it.
Mrs Elm shook her head.
โYou always have to wait for my say-so.โ โWhy?โ
โEvery book in here, every book in this entire library โ except one โ is a version of your life.ย ๎ขis library is yours. It is here for you. You see, everyoneโs lives could have ended up an in๏ฌnite number of ways.ย ๎ขese
books on the shelves are your life, all starting from the same point in time. Right now. Midnight. Tuesday the twenty-eighth of April. But these midnight possibilities arenโt the same. Some are similar, some are very di๏ฌerent.โ
โ๎ขis is crackers,โ said Nora. โExceptย one?ย ๎ขis one?โ Nora tilted the stone-grey book towards Mrs Elm.
Mrs Elm raised an eyebrow. โYes.ย ๎ขat one. Itโs something you have written without ever having to type a word.โ
โWhat?โ
โ๎ขis book is the source of all your problems, and the answer to them too.โ โBut what is it?โ
โIt is called, my dear,ย ๎ปe Book of Regrets.โ
