She sat with her eyebrows raised, as though it gave her a better view of the words that made her front teeth protrude as part of a small smile. Her foot tapped the rhythm of the words on her chair leg, until her brows snapped down like the metal blinds of a supermarket and she looked up, catching my eyes. When she grinned, lines spread across her face, which crackled like fire. As she walked through the library she turned back and spread her hand in a wave before the alarm system jangled through the silence. I moved to the window and watched the old woman, running across the courtyard, with the book clutched to her chest.