Bookstores
The young woman frowns slightly. Then she looks at me, up and down and up again, in a manner that is obviously thoughtful, even critical.
I feel unexpectedly self-conscious. – I hate being so short among these weirdly gigantic Midgardians. Even this one is chest-to-head with me!
I am surprised when she then drags me by my wrist, weaving in and out of the crowds. I try to yank my appendage free, but her grip is shockingly firm.
But then, we come upon… a library?
But, if it is a library, why would people who queue in front of the librarian’s desk seem to exchange things for the books they bring, like at the drink kiosk? And they bring the books outside – into the crowds! Not even I – a prince of the realm – am allowed to risk books so, in Asgard! Not that I wish to do so, in any case.
The young woman grabs a book seemingly at random, then a few… small things… on another rack. And then she tows me to the queue in front of the desk, only to exchange a slip of colourful, somewhat-dirty-and-smelly parchment for those items with the… librarian?
My. I am severely confused.