Dorothy…

SsSSsSSscreamed, screeched, howled and hollered like she had seen the dead.

There was no ghost. No spectre had tickled her throat. She remained as still as a mouse, shook by the vocal violence. Her calm demeanour had been taken over.

She took a breath and dismantled the fairy lights from the shelves – a little early perhaps but it was best not to drag out Christmas.

She had realized while doing so that the books in her assigned bays were completely out of order.

She had let slackness crept in before Christmas. She had forgiven the public for their lax ways. She had turned a blind eye to the drunken staff but now the chaos was evident all round. But still hardly worth screaming about she told herself. She would have to get herself back rowing, or running or kickboxing. Something was not right. She settled into shelving.

Systems like Dewey were a calm salve to soul she thought. When they were not respected and adhered to; the torment of personal lives and perceived failures however minuscule could rise up like an uncontrollable wave to a cry or shout or an unforgivable word to a colleague. Still this was roar was different. She hoped like a good fart in the dark – that no one had heard and so….

…she just stood in the light of a New Year, shelving in echo of her own scream and did her breathing exercises.

“One item at a time” she told herself. “Stay calm. Carry on”

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