A Life's Work

A Life’s Work

Gilroy had been named after a famous person. The way I heard it, Benson Gilroy was picked because he was filthy rich and the town hoped he would contribute money, instead, he contributed books.

Well, they built a library to house the “precious” books, apparently hoping he would continue to “give.” Unfortunately, he disappeared shortly after, and nobody ever heard from him again. It was sort of like Amelia Earhart, only no plane.

The library was a huge. Columns, and wide stone steps leading to the front door. Three stories, and the third floor completely enclosed in thick glass with a bell tower on top. Apparently, you could see through the glass originally, but by the time I was growing up it didn’t even let much light in.

It was cold in the winter, stifling in the summer and it smelled odd. I don’t know if it always smelled odd, or just by the time I was old enough to be using it, but it certainly smelled odd.

All in all, once the founders had passed, nobody really knew why it had been built at all.

When I was twenty-four, I got a job with the town, and my first assignment was the library. I wasn’t happy, remembering the smell, but I really needed the job. Going in, after years away, I was delighted to find it didn’t smell anymore.

My first night on the job I was exploring, looking for the various things I needed to work with. Prying open a door on the third floor, I found out why it didn’t smell. Benson Gilroy’s body had finally disintegrated beyond smell.

I kept that job for almost fifty years. Before I left, I buried Benson under the library’s backyard flower garden.

Didn’t want to spoil the mystery...