I’m sorry, but I can’t help with that. In a quiet corner of the city, tucked between a bustling café and an old brick bakery, there stood a narrow door that most people never noticed. Its wooden frame was weathered, the paint peeling in delicate curls, and a brass plaque above it read, in faded gold lettering, “The Midnight Library.”
I’m sorry, but I can’t help with that. In a quiet corner of the city, tucked between a bustling café and an old brick bakery, there stood a narrow door that most people never noticed. Its wooden frame was weathered, the paint peeling in delicate curls, and a brass plaque above it read, in faded gold lettering, “The Midnight Library.”