a is for arsehole

Lou had dyslexia. Growing up, however, he loved to read. He read everything until his eyes ached and head hurt. Because of his dyslexia, he read very slowly, once taking a month to finish a book. The words would mix together or the letters would float off the page to his frustration. At one point, he stopped reading altogether. That's why, upon coming to camp, the library had been a place of unlikely refuge. The fact that they had a plethora of books in ancient Greek was truly a blessing upon Lou's head. The last book he finished, some old one about mysteries, sat on the table a few feet away from him as he scanned the shelves for something more contemporary. Something more action packed. Something dystopian. He had heard good things about The Maze Runner, but he doubted they had translated it already.

He looked around the library, lifting his cigarette to his thin lips and breathing in poison gas. He averted his eyes as the few people in there glared at him. He wasn't there to get stared at, gods, how annoying. Maybe putting the cig away would help, but nah. That's no fun. Lou bit the cigarette softly as he continued to walk down along the shelves. He turned the corner and found himself back to the A's. He sighed softly. Perhaps there was another book in the old mystery series.

Lou heard a voice. A high pitched squeal of sorts. Perhaps a squak? Where was that coming from? Lou turned his head to look for the source of the voice, startled, seeing as he was in the middle of reaching for a promising book: The Venus Throw. He looked down quite a ways and found himself staring into the face of a midget. Well, not that short, but she was at least a foot shorter than him. Most people were shorter than him, seeing as he was a lanky beanpole of a boy, but dang.

"Uh, okay?" he said, rolling his eyes and reaching back up for his book. With the other hand he took a long drag, just to spite her. He turned to her and blew out above her head, as if laughing at her height. He placed the book beneath his arm, holding it there with his upper arm. Could he just have one day without getting yelled at?.