The Note in the Library Book

Last autumn, Nora borrowed an old book of poems from the library near her apartment. It was a small blue book with a broken cover, and it smelled of dust and coffee. On the bus home, she opened it, and a piece of yellow paper fell onto her lap.

It was a note in careful handwriting: "If you still want to talk, meet me under the station clock on the first Friday of November at six o'clock. I will wait for one hour. D." There was no year on the note, and the paper looked very old.

Nora laughed at first. It was probably a joke, or a message from someone who had died long ago. But she couldn't stop thinking about it. The next day, she asked the librarian about the book. "A woman called Ruth Adler gave it to us," the librarian said, checking her computer. "That was in 1987. She gave us all her books when she moved to Canada."

The first Friday of November was only a week away. Nora told herself that she was being silly, but on Friday evening she put on her coat and walked to the station.

It was cold and crowded under the big clock. People were running for their trains, and nobody looked at her. At ten past six, she decided to go home. Then she noticed an old man on a bench. He was holding a bunch of yellow flowers and watching the clock.

Nora sat down next to him. "Excuse me," she said. "Are you waiting for Ruth?"

The man looked at her for a long time. "How do you know that name?" he asked.

She showed him the note. His hands shook as he read it. "I wrote this in 1986," he said quietly. "Ruth and I had a terrible argument, and I was too proud to say sorry to her face. So I put this note in her favorite book. She never came."

"She never read it," Nora said. "The note was still inside the book. She gave it to the library before she left."

The old man closed his eyes. Then, for the first time, he smiled. "I've come here every year," he said. "Every first Friday of November. I always thought she didn't want to see me." He gave Nora the flowers. "Thank you. Now I can stop waiting."