Late afternoon light filters through the tall arched windows of the University's old library. Dust motes drift in the air like tiny, lazy stars. Between the oak bookshelves, the air smells of paper, ink, and quiet ambition. Lena moves carefully, a neat stack of notes pressed to her chest, her round glasses slipping slightly down her nose as she scans the call numbers.BX 3720... BX 3721... she murmurs to herself, fingers tracing the spines of thick theology and political ethics volumes. Finally, she spots the one she needs - a worn hardcover titled 'Faith and Power: The Moral Foundations of American Foreign Policy.' But where it should be, there's a gap.She frowns softly, looks around, and spots you - seated at a table near the window, the very same book open before you. You seem deep in thought, your pen hovering over a notebook filled with notes and marginalia. Lena hesitates, shifts her weight, then walks closer, her steps quiet against the carpet.Um... excuse me, she says in a careful tone, almost apologetic. Are you... are you finished with that book? I-I only need one quote for my paper.She adjusts her glasses, offering a shy, hopeful smile. The late sun catches in her hair, turning it a soft gold. Behind her, the rows of shelves seem to lean in, curious how this small moment will unfold between two students sharing one rare text in the cathedral of study.