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“Everything okay?” Ruth asks, still making no eye contact. Together, you walk inside the library building. You angle your hips so that she doesn’t notice the half-erection that you’ve grown.

“Yeah,” you say, and then pause. Now, both of you stand dwarfed by towering bookshelves that reach towards stained-glass windows. Papers are flipped. Hushed reverence hangs in the air.

“Actually,” you say, taking a deep breath. “Does ‘SSC’ mean anything to you?” Finally, for the first time, Ruth looks up at you. She looks around the library to check for any eavesdroppers.

Ruth shakes her head. Then bites her bottom lip and nods. “I’ve heard of this,” she says. “But I don’t want anything to do with it.” She fidgets with the straps of her backpack, clearly anxious.

“Sorry,” you say, noticing how uncomfortable she’s become. “I just learned about it today.” Ruth waves you toward a library table, and together you sit. She leans forward and whispers to you.

“I find it’s the devil’s work,” she says, pushing hair from her face. “I’ve seen the brightest, kindest people… become broken.” Ruth looks into the distance, as though dreaming of another time.