The conversations we used to have while sitting on the bench outside the front entrance is what I think I’ll miss the most about about the Library in Audrey Heights. I drove by it last week because I’d heard it was demolished, and sure enough, there was no trace of it anymore, just an empty lot. It had been wiped clean of every fragment of brick and dust, leaving no visual account of the past. My memories are not the clearest, and those old conversations are no longer set in stone in my mind, but I seem to remember it as looking from outside, as somebody else looking on over the two of us. I can see us sitting there talking, always waiting for the bus, laughing about something or other. It seems like all I can do anymore is retreat into the past. I haven’t felt right about a thing in years.