I dreamed I was the last librarian in the world

The building was still standing, but only because no one had come to burn it down yet. The shelves were full of books that hadn’t been touched in decades—some with dust like ash on the spines. I kept checking the return logs, not for due dates, but to see if anyone had ever actually read them. No names. Just my own handwriting in the margins, saying things like 'this is true' or 'I don’t know what I’m doing.' At some point, I started whispering the titles aloud, just to hear a voice that wasn’t mine. Then the lights went out. Not darkness—just silence. And for the first time, I didn’t feel lon