A folded map slipped from a book when Naledi opened it. The paper was soft at the edges. Instead of roads, someone had drawn a tree, a bench and a tiny square with a star inside.
“Is this a treasure map?” she asked the librarian.
“Perhaps,” he said. “But you should read the note on the back.”
Naledi turned it over. Three words waited there: Find somewhere quiet.
She followed the tree to the courtyard. The bench stood beneath its branches, just as the map promised. Beside it was a little wooden box. Inside were pencils and a notebook filled with messages from other readers.
One person had written about a difficult exam. Another had drawn a bird. A third had left a sentence: A good story gives you somewhere to begin again.
Naledi sat down and read until the afternoon light moved across her shoes. Then she took a pencil and added her own message. She did not write about treasure. She wrote about the pleasure of finding a place where nobody expected her to hurry.