I remember when it was two rooms in an ex-police station, and they kept most of the non-fiction books in an ex-jail cell, and you had to get a librarian to unlock it and go in and get your books for you because patrons weren't allowed back there and once I spent about two hours sending a librarian back and forth because I knew the book I wanted but couldn't remember the title or author and wasn't able to describe the content very clearly and I was in tenth grade and I kept skipping classes to go in and read the Year's Best Fantasy & Horror anthologies and I had this giant men's leather jacket I got at a thrift store that I thought made me look tough and mysterious but actually made me look like an undersized teenage shoplifter, which I frequently was, and sometimes when I'd racked up a fine I couldn't pay and the library wouldn't let me check out books, I'd sneak them out under that coat. They didn't have a barcode sensor thing then, either. The End.