"Love, to endure life's sorrow and earth's woe,
Needs friendship's solid masonwork below"

- Ella Wheeler

If he had to choose one place to spend the rest of his life in, it would be this building. For food, there was the small cafeteria downstairs. There were lavatories for other purposes. The windows were wide, airy and provided a great view of the city. He could sleep on one of the couches in the kids' lounge. And he would have the best of company - books.
Unwanted humming, coming from somewhere behind him. He had thought he was alone in that section.
Whatever. He got back to his search.
Now the humming had transformed into whistling. Spencer turned around to investigate. He stepped past the bookshelf behind him.
A woman.
She stopped whistling on seeing him.
"Hi", she smiled.
"Hi", he said.
She didn't have to be told.
"Sorry, I thought I was alone here"
"It's okay"
Noting how absurd her canary yellow jumper looked among the dark tones of the library, he got back to his shelf. Soon after, he found what he was looking for and left.

'Blake, Blake, Blake'
There wasn't enough time. Spencer grabbed two of his anthologies and one biography. He walked to the reading room on the first floor, only to find it already overcrowded. The one upstairs in References was almost always empty. He climbed two flights of stairs to get to it.
Alas, this one was even busier than the other.
'Finals season'
Spencer looked around, hoping to spot an empty seat. He walked along the length of the common table. The section supervisor's table was at the end of the room. Maybe Mrs. Jackson would let him sit there for a while.
Damn it. Someone was sitting there too.
Wait a second.
That was the whistler from Greek Literature. She was sitting at the table in Mrs. Jackson's chair.
He saw the lady in question approach her with a book.
"Thank you so much", the whistler said to her.
Mrs. Jackson smiled at her and left. Spencer approached the table.
"Excuse me. Do you mind if I sit here?"
The woman gave a small smile.
"Not at all"
"Thanks"
"Let me make some space for you"
She began to arrange the thick volumes on the table. Pulling them to one side, she made ample space for his books.
"Thank you"
'Natural History' - she had on the table same titles from two different authors. Spencer took a seat and focused his attention on his own books.

Two books in. One to go. The biography gave him some idea about William Blake as a person and artist. His poems mostly held religious significance. Maybe he should take a look at his paintings to understand the...
"You're Dr. Reid, right?"
The woman had spoken. She was observing him.
"Yes"
"I'm Monica", she said, "I didn't want to disturb you while you were reading. Brenda told me about you. I got a little jealous when she said you could read 20,000 words per minute. I practice speed reading sometimes but the best I can do is a thousand, without skimming"
He took that Brenda was none other than Mrs. Jackson.
"It took some practice", he tried to sound modest.
"You make it look so easy though", she smiled, "I have never seen anyone read that fast"
He shrugged. She said, looking at his books,
"Tyger, tyger. You a fan of Blake?"
"No, this is research"
"You teach literature?"
"No. It's for work. Are you a fan?"
"Not really. But I read a lot of poetry. However, Blake isn't my cup of tea. I consider him the patron artist of fictional serial killers"
Spencer waited for an explanation. She said,
"You know, Red Dragon. Red John from The Mentalist. And my favourite - Agatha Christie's Endless Night"
In an instant, he recalled the UnSub's note at the crime scene -
"Some are born to Endless Night"
It was a line from a Blake poem, the very thing he was trying to interpret.
"What do you think it means exactly?", he asked her, "Endless night"
Her delight on being consulted was apparent. She said,
"That's the beauty with all forms of art - you can interpret it whichever way you want to. To some, it could mean being born to a lifetime of misery. But like in Agatha Christie's book, it could mean being born with that uncontrollable desire to kill"
The UnSub wasn't going to stop killing, that he knew. But maybe...
"Endless Night by Agatha Christie", he got up, "Excuse me"

Fifteen minutes later, Spencer finished reading the last page of the novel. He didn't have time to return the books to their shelves. The library forbade using cellphones. He ran out and called Emily.
"The New England murders", Spencer said, "I think I know who the UnSub is"
Emily called him into work. Spencer hung up and looked back at the library. He felt he should thank Monica for providing such a major clue.
It would have to wait. He had a sociopath to catch.

The next time he saw Monica, Spencer remembered to thank her. She smiled at him. Now that he was paying attention, he found she had the kindest eyes he had ever seen. His tendency to get absorbed in research often made him overlook other things. Such as Monica's lovely smile and warm manner. She looked like the personification of the term "friend".
"I'm glad I could help but I doubt I did anything other than mentioning the book"
"Let's just say that saved lives"
She raised her eyebrows, smiling still.
"Then you're much welcome"
There was a moment of silence between them before she glanced at the book in his hand.
"The Handmaid's Tale", she said, "It's one of my favourites"
"I am supposed to return it today"
"What did you think of it?"
"I think it's clever, though a bit too paranoid. Atwood combines all the different kinds of biases women have had to face over the ages..."
"Still do face", she said.
He smiled,
"Yes. And she has used them to present a probable picture of the future. It's less of a warning, and more of an alternate universe story, which is rare for dystopian fiction"
"You didn't like it?"
"I did, but I'm not a fan of fiction"
"That can't be true. Everyone likes fiction in one form or another"
"I mean I do enjoy some TV shows and some light reading every now and then, but I don't spend much time on it"
She nodded,
"I get that. I don't get to read as much as I would like. So many books, so little time. I mean, for those of us who can't read 20k words per minute"
"I saw you were reading Galen's Natural History the other day"
"Oh, that's just for work. Botany is not as exciting as a murder mystery"
"Agatha Christie?", he remembered.
"Yep. And Sir Arthur Conan Doyle too. I used to be obsessed with Sherlock Holmes"
He didn't want their conversation to end. Monica looked like she had a lot of interesting things to say.
"Who do you think is a better detective - Holmes or Poirot?"
"Neither. It's Miss Marple"
Spencer grinned,
"She's not even a detective"
"But she's a much more talented investigator"
"I disagree"
"Oh yeah? Come with me. I'll prove it to you"
She led him to the Literature section, singing praises of Miss Marple all the while.

Within the span of a few weeks, they became friends on goodreads. Monica commented on it,
"Your 'read' shelf is not good for a bookworm's ego"
"It's not a competition", he smiled.
"I know but it makes me wish I was born a genius"
"You seem pretty intelligent to me"
She looked pleased.
"Thank you. I appreciate that. Say Dr. Reid, do you like Halloween?"
His voice had a sudden inflection.
"I love Halloween"
"Do you dress up?"
"Every year"
"Me too! Who are you going to be this year?"
A corner of his mouth quirked up.
"Sherlock Holmes"
Monica grinned,
"I can totally see it. You would make a great Dr. Who too. I don't think you would even need a separate costume for that"
Spencer looked down at his clothes as she did. Monica rushed to explain,
"I meant that as a compliment. I personally find this choice of clothes quite attractive. You look like a hot history professor"
Hot? Him?
Spencer nervously scratched his forearm and shoved his hands inside his pockets. Flattered, he tried to play the compliment off with a smile.
"I have been the Doctor before", he asked, "What about you?"
"I am going to have to be a decomposing corpse", she explained, "My sister-in-law loves Halloween too. They do a haunted house every year. I'm supposed to walk out of a tomb and scare the crap out of people. I even got a special move. You want to see it?"
"Sure"
Monica walked a few feet away from him. He was facing her back. In a second, bending backwards, she was on her hands and feet, and rapidly scurrying towards him like a spider.
"Okay, okay!", he stepped back until she stopped, "Yeah, that should do it"
Monica straightened up and turned towards him.
"Was it creepy enough?"
He laughed,
"More than enough"
"Yay", she smiled, "Hey, if you're free, you should come check it out"
"Sorry, I might be working on Halloween"
Thank goodness he would be working on Halloween. He did not want to see that weird spider-walk thing ever again.
Stuff of nightmares.
"Too bad. Anyway", Monica looked into her purse, "If you change your mind..."
She held out a card to him. It said -

Dr. Monica Knight
B.A. (Hon.), M. Sc. (Hon.), Ph.D.
Mary Washington University, Fredericksburg, VA

"If you change your mind, give me a call on the number on the back. I'll send you the address"
Instead of saying "thanks", his immediate response was of surprise.
"You never mentioned having a doctorate"
She shrugged.
"It's no big deal. Anyway, I have to get going now. In case I don't see you until next week - happy Halloween", she smiled, "Take some pictures of yourself in costume for me, will you?"
"Okay", he added, "You too. Bye"
They waved at each other and she went away. Spencer mused about her thinking of him as a hot professor. He nearly bumped into a wall before realising he was supposed to go the other way.

Busy as he always was, Spencer didn't understand any soon how fond he had grown of Monica. She was the first one he called on finding a good book, a new Indian dish, or simply when he needed her opinion on literature. He was pleasantly surprised by her knowledge of most things - psychology, chemistry, sociology. He never had to explain to her the basics of what he was talking about. And when she was the one talking, he wished she would go on for hours.
It was a friendship he had come to treasure, one not formed out of being forced into close quarters, but out of mutual respect and shared interests.
"Look what I found", she held out the book towards him.
They were sitting next to each other in the reading room. Spencer was hit with a fresh scent of shampoo as she leaned towards him. It made being close to her the more pleasant.
"Why are you reading Lombroso?"
She said,
"You made it sound interesting"
He smiled and looked back at his book.
"That's the first time anyone's said that to me"
The boy sitting across the table tried to shush them. Monica leaned in close to Spencer to avoid disturbing the others.
"You serious?"
"Yeah"
"What kind of people do you surround yourself with?"
"They are good people. They're just... not like us"
"Their loss. We're awesome"
He smiled again and kept leafing through the book. The guy from before hissed,
"Do you lovebirds mind keeping it down?"
Monica apologised to him,
"Sorry"
Spencer was distracted. He turned to regard Monica, as if he were looking at her for the first time.
"Does he think we are a couple?"
"Probably. Brenda and Mrs. Valdez think so too. I told them it wasn't like that but they wouldn't believe me"
As if with an afterthought, she looked back at him.
"Does that bother you?"
"No. It..."
It bothered him why he had not acted on his new feelings yet. Leisurely in the comfort her presence provided, he often forgot the excitement it brought too. But this was his window.
"Have you been to Patiala Kitchen?"
"No. What's that?", Monica asked.
"It's an Indian restaurant a few blocks from here", he licked his lips, "Would you... like to have dinner there, after we are done here?"
She said,
"What, like a date?"
"Yeah", he said cautiously, "A date"
It eased all of his trepidation to see her giddy smile. Monica nodded,
"Yes. Yes, I would love that"
"Great"
They kept looking at each other, smiling, feeling like they had come up with the best idea ever.
The guy across from them exclaimed,
"Jesus Christ, get a room already"