Last night, and it was late enough so that it could have been a kind of nightmare, Marash Girl found herself awaiting a meeting of the Newtonville Area Council which was to be held in the basement of the Newton Senior Citizen Center. The place was barren, cut up into smallish rooms, a used plastic table in the center of the meeting room, a table around which stood metal folding chairs, abandoned art supplies on the surrounding shelves. But this place was once the place of her dreams.
It was a sad evening for Marash Girl, as she looked around at what once had been her haven, a huge haven, the entire lower level of the building, a room that was holy, a room with low wooden tables surrounded by small wooden chairs, a room with shelves of books along every wall, the Newton Junior Library, the place Marash Girl first fell in love -- in love with books.
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