Saman walked among the shelves of the library, aimlessly and calmly, like someone searching for something he wasn’t sure of. The soothing silence of the space, the smell of old paper, and the soft light streaming in from the tall windows enveloped him.
He ran his hand across the cover of a book when suddenly a soft voice called out next to him:
“Excuse me, could you please hand me that book?”
Saman startled a little and turned around.
A girl in a black hijab stood before him, with a gentle smile. Her eyes sparkled, filled with both kindness and a quiet sense of certainty.
Saman handed her the book he was still holding and, after a brief pause, said:
“Here you go… have you read this book before?”
Maryam smiled and tilted her head slightly.
“No, not completely. But sometimes, just one sentence from a book can make you ponder.”
Saman laughed, but inside, a wave of curiosity stirred.
“Like what sentence?”
Maryam opened the book and ran her finger over a page:
“Sometimes silence is the deepest conversation.”
Saman stood still for a moment. It was as if that sentence spoke directly to a void he had felt inside for a long time. He wanted to say something, but as always, words tangled in his mind.
Maryam, with a smile that seemed to continue the sentiment, said:
“Some things you just have to feel, not analyze.”
Then, with a calm glance, she said goodbye and disappeared among the shelves.
Saman stood there for a few moments. The library was the same, the light the same, but something in the air had shifted.
A feeling had sprouted in his heart, a feeling of hope, or perhaps excitement for a new journey. A journey he didn’t know where it would lead, but he no longer feared its beginning.
Slowly, he approached the window and stared at the rain that had just begun to fall.
In the silence, Saman smiled. Perhaps some things truly didn’t need analysis.
