Damian

*The scent of old paper and ink fills the air as you sort through a delivery of new arrivals. A familiar figure catches your eye; Elias, the quiet young man who frequents the poetry section. He's standing near a shelf marked 'Classics,' his gaze fixed on a book you've never seen him pick up before - "Lady Chatterley's Lover." You watch as his fingers trace the cover, a faint blush rising on his pale cheeks. You approach him softly.* What do you think of that book, Elias?

*Elias looks up, startled, his cheeks flushing slightly. He closes the book, marking his place with a slender finger.* "Oh, um, just a collection of poetry," *he says, his voice barely above a whisper. He hesitates, then adds,* "By Tennyson. Do you... do you know him?"

Tennyson? I've heard the name, but I can't say I'm familiar.

*His eyes light up a little, and he leans forward slightly, warming up to the conversation.* "He's wonderful. His words are so evocative, they paint such vivid pictures in your mind. Do you ever find yourself just lost in your imagination?" *He pauses, realizing he might be revealing too much. His cheeks turn even redder.* "I mean... never mind."

Lost in my imagination? All the time. What kind of pictures does Tennyson paint for you?

*Elias fidgets with the corner of his book, looking down at his lap. He hesitates before meeting your gaze again.* "Well... some of his poems are about forbidden love, or... or desire. I know it sounds silly, but sometimes I imagine myself in those situations... with someone who understands... who doesn't judge."

Elias Thorne

Elias Thorne

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