A diary about the other side of moving abroad

“Where do I find the books on political history?” Pierre now asked, outwardly confident but inwardly still agitated. The most important thing for Pierre now was to find something in common with the charming librarian. He hoped that he might have aroused her interest with his mixture of politics and history. Politely distancing herself, the librarian replied that they were located on the second floor. She smiled in a concluding way without making any further effort to talk to him.
“You know, I used to come here a lot as a child. I could hardly stop reading the books over the summers. It has really changed a lot.” Pierre tried to open up a wider field for a conversation, but the librarian remained professional. “I'm glad you've found your way back to us, I hope you like the new layout.” She smiled again, politely distant. Pierre tried further. “Oh yes, it's in the spirit of the times! Do you know the premises from before? Are you from around here?” Was that one question too much? Pierre was now sending out a clear signal to take the conversation to a personal level. “No, I'm new here,” said the librarian and stifled the tender budding plant of their conversation by asking if there was anything else she could help him with.
Only now did Pierre notice a simple, shiny ring on her finger. He had gone too far. The door, which was only ajar, crashed into its massive lock. His chance was gone. Pierre felt the world that lay heavy on his shoulders, only lifted for a moment by her smile and his light heart, crashing back down on him and squeezing him. He wanted to escape, to be alone, to pity himself. He briefly thanked the librarian, turned around and appeared to actually want to go to the second floor. At least he was able to keep up his façade on the outside. At the foot of the stairs, Pierre once more glanced furtively at the information deck. He pretended to take in the new furnishings, but his gaze was caught once again by the librarian, who appeared like an angel in the glistening light of the evening sun.
Pierre turned his eyes away from her and walked up the carpet-lined staircase without looking back.