Source A: The return slot

An original contemporary non-fiction-style practice text, written for this question.

I had used the library for years, but I had never given much thought to the narrow slot beside the front door. I pushed my books through it, heard them land somewhere inside, and walked on. Returning a book seemed to me the simplest part of borrowing one.

One rainy afternoon, I came back to find the slot closed. A notice said that returned books should be taken to the desk. I carried my two books inside and set them down. The librarian smiled and asked me to wait while she checked them in.

I watched her scan each book, then place it on a trolley. I had imagined that a returned book went straight back to its shelf. Instead, she explained that the books on the trolley had to be sorted first. Some were reserved by other readers; others needed to be checked before they could be put away. She spoke as if this were obvious. I nodded as if I had known it all along.

Behind the desk, another member of staff was moving books from the trolley into separate piles. The room seemed to have more stages than I had ever noticed. The librarian pointed out a book with a loose cover and set it aside for repair. I had thought the slot was the end of a book’s journey. Now it looked more like the beginning of another small one.

When she handed me my receipt, I thanked her and stepped away. The queue behind me had grown. I glanced back at the trolley, now half-empty, and wondered how many journeys I had mistaken for a simple return. I had come in to drop off two books. I left with a better question: what else in this familiar place had I never really seen?