Marcus Gladstone, a 23 year old African-American

My name is Marcus Gladstone, my family's name fought for its honor and right ever since the civil war with descendents of those soldiers fighting against Spain, Filipino rebels, the Germans, the Germans again and tons of other people after that that even my dad saw Iraq. I myself wasn't qualified and the honor to my little brother instead, and now I spend my days doing fuck all.

Most people call me a wastrel and in some respects, I am. The best I could land a job at is as a barrista in my local Starbucks. That's the most interesting thing about me.

Whenever I have time, which was on Sundays and Mondays, I'd go wander around my local city. When I stumbled on a library - at least that's what it said - that I've never seen before pop up, I thought I'd give it a shot.

Immediately, I found myself trap in this labyrinth of books and sorts with an old lady disappearing right in front of me. And so I wander in aisles and in sections to see if there's a possibility of me doing any reading or getting out.