In the library

⏱ ~4 min reading

Bohdan was enrolled in the library. It happened on Saturday. Grandma took his hand, and they walked through two yards and a square to a large yellow house with a wide staircase.

The library smelled of old paper. And a little bit of wood. And a little bit of something very, very peaceful—like the smell of silence itself, if it has a smell.

When they entered, Bohdan stopped in the doorway. He had never seen so many books at once before. The shelves stretched up to the ceiling. The greenish lamp on the librarian's desk cast a round pool of light onto her hands.

"Wow!" Bogdan shouted. "Grandma, here are a hundred thousand books!"

His voice came out loud. Several heads at the tables looked up. One woman pressed a finger to her lips:

— Shh.

Bogdan blushed. Grandma squatted down.

"Bogdashko," she said very quietly. "They speak in whispers here.".

— Why?

— Because they read here. And when a person reads, their head is immersed in a book. If someone speaks loudly, it's like pulling the reader's hand. He jumps out of the story.

"And I can't be loud either?"

"Not at all. Only in a whisper.".

Bogdan tried. He whispered:

— Why are there so many books here?

It came out like a whistle, but quietly. Grandma smiled—with the corners of her lips.

"That's it. Well done. Try it even quieter.".

Bogdan whispered, barely audible:

— Grandma, can I go take a look?

"You can. Just don't run. Walk slowly, like a cat.".

Bogdan walked like a cat. He placed his foot carefully so that the soles did not click. His sneakers were new and creaked a little. Bogdan walked on tiptoe.

He went to the shelf with children's books. There were different ones here - thick, thin, with pictures and without. Red, blue, green covers. On one - the cat in the hat. On the other - a flying elephant.

Bogdan reached out his hand. He took one. It turned out to be heavy, with a shiny cover. There was a dragon on the cover. Bogdan opened it. Inside were drawings. On the first page was a knight with a sword.

Bohdan wanted to shout "dragon!" But he remembered. He restrained himself.

He covered his mouth with both hands and ran to his grandmother.

“Grandma,” he whispered feverishly, “there’s a dragon here!”

Grandma took the book.

"It's beautiful. Do you want to take it?"

Bogdan nodded. He really wanted to.

They went to the librarian. She was slim, in a blue dress, with her hair tied high on her head. Her glasses were round and slid down her nose a little.

“Young reader?” she asked.

"Yes," replied the grandmother. "The first time.".

The librarian smiled at Bogdan. She gave him a small card—a library card. She wrote «Bogdan» on it.

"Your name will live here," she said quietly. "As long as you come to get the books.".

Bohdan kept the ticket like a treasure.

When he and his grandmother went outside, Bohdan exhaled. He heard his voice fully for the first time in an hour.

"GRANDMA!" he shouted and jumped up. "I HAVE A DRAGON!"

Grandma laughed.

— There. That's where you can be loud. On the street.

On the way home, Bohdan jumped over cracks in the asphalt and carried the book with both hands — as carefully as he could.

"Grandma," he asked suddenly, "why is one place quiet and another loud?"

Grandma thought.

— Because in every place people do different things. In the park - they walk, run. It can be loud. In the library - they read, think. It should be quiet. In the theater - they listen to the artists. It's also quiet. And at home - as everyone agreed.

— So, I have to think, where am I?

— Exactly. It's called respecting the place. And those who are in it.

At home, Bogdan sat on the sofa with a book. The dragon on the cover looked at him with a green eye.

Bohdan didn't read very well yet - he composed syllables. But he tried. Letters became words, words became sentences.

From the kitchen, you could hear your grandmother putting on the kettle. And Bohdan was reading. And it seemed to him that he, too, was now like those adults in the library. Lost somewhere. Somewhere in another world.

From now on, he knew why it was quiet there. Because silence is a door to another world. It only opens when no one knocks.

Bohdan promised himself that he would always walk like a cat in the library. And speak like a whisper. So that none of the readers would jump out of their story.