New week, new cloudy skies, new cars on the parking lot. The novelty of my Monday vanished, however, when I saw next to a new vehicle the extremely recurrent Evangeline B. Almost crouching to face one the windows, her voice didn't correspond to either that of her librarian self or that of her alter ego as a tennis player. It was a new Evangeline in the body of all-common Evangeline. I payed closer attention while slowing my pace. "[...] and you said you'd try to have them relocate you. What did you do all this time over there then?" My boss was talking to a car window that's rapidly rolling up. "Can't you be patient for once? I said we'll discuss it tonight" the car replied to Evangeline.

"But you bring it up on our way here? Seriously, honey. You ar-" my boss stops herself by pulling her fingers from the passenger window. "What's wrong with you today." Her voice was that of an angry tall, very tall, person. I tried to focus on the driver, but it was too sunny and the windows were tinted. Honestly, I tried to focus on anything but Evangeline's face. I didn't need to create false impressions on my head. Something about being too much for certain activities, and all other sort of complaints she had made in the tennis court against society and its prejudices, refrained me from pointing my eyes straight at her.

The antagonizing car left the parking lot alongside me. Even if I elaborated the most compelling story behind my snoopy behavior, and even if I was certain of dissipating all skepticism with it, the necessity of turning around, looking up at my boss' face, and attaching an expression to her angered sounds, remained a stone too large to budge. "I beat you to the office today," I would start when she comes into the library. "Yeah, I just met the other library assistant," I would advance the one-way conversation. "I am going to the David Scott concert," I would transition, thus removing my and other people's personal circumstances from that imaginary conversation. I thought of these things as I left the parking lot, accelerating on every step.

"Morning, Max" the pissed voice calls me from behind, as it approaches. "Oh! Morning, boss" the ill-prepared voice I happen to have replies as in a trance. "You heard all that?" the pissed voice that fakes a chuckle first, then forces itself to not appear too pissed, asks. "Uh? What do you mean?" the screaming-for-help voice I wished I never had, stammers while auditioning for a role in a mini-series nobody in the history of ever will see. Evangeline lets out a real chuckle this time.

"Nothing." A sigh, or a deep breath, or her physiology showing resignation. "How was your weekend?" my boss wonders, adjusting her pace to that of short-legged, tiny little me. "Nothing crazy. My frat had a party on Saturday, and I had a date on Sunday." That should have given room for conversation. First, I could justify all the heavy-lifting I do for Sigma Phi Epsilon prior to every party. Second, I could get intel from an older woman on what works during a Sunday coffee double-date where the girl is more interested on Sam and Katie than on Max (me) and the idea of dating Max (also me). But Evangeline just whispers "Oh" and keeps walking, always adjusting her pace.

"Some people from Northeastern pulled up, it was great!" A nod and a second "Oh", ever so shyer. "They are always so unserious I swear." The 'um' that doesn't require you parting lips. "Even the girls jumped onto the pool from the roof!" A turn of the head towards me, while uttering "ow" and frowning. "But super helpful with the after, you know. Most stayed over the night and helped me clean up." The look of someone listening to someone somewhere making sounds with their mouth, none of them concatenating. "Otherwise, I'd been late to the date. Well, it was a double date. Sam and Katie wanted to see the coffee shop too." A subtle smile at either the word 'coffee', the mention of Sam and Katie or the concept of me going on a coffee date. "Absolute fiasco, boss. You'd never believe it." I exaggerated a head shake.

"You need to tell me more during the next tennis tournament" Evangeline worded it as an order desperately trying to be a silly invitation. I laughed with the eyes closed. "Yeah, sure. So today's the day... I get to meet all the staff." From the library entrance, I could already hear more noise than 'normal'; as I like to call my first six days on the job. "You'll see they are pretty friendly. I'm sure you'll get along. Oh, look! Rocio's on the front desk."

"Oh my god, Eva, I missed you so much!" Rocio said as a means to a hug. Through Evangeline's soft smile, a mumble came out resembling a 'Hey'. There is a difference between the subtle smile she threw on our way here and the one she has during the eternal thirty-or-so seconds wherein Rocio tried to squeeze the equivalent of 5 Rocio's with her bare arms. This smile is more like a librarian's. "Girl, I swear, you get more fine by the second!" I laughed at the way Rocio pronounced 'fine'.

"Oop. Don't mind me, I'm Rocio" she introduces herself as our eyes connect. "Hey. Max." I take her hand, and I start feeling a hint of estrangement in my week-long relationship with this library. The Prairie Library was synonym with mini-giant-scaled Evangeline, but here came in Rocio with a regular hand and a regular stature, almost acting as a counterpoint to the fantasy elements that my boss introduces through sheer existence. "I've heard you're the senior on the building."

"Pfft," Rocio lets out as she turns around, "You bet I am, dude! I run this place. Ask any librarian here." Her head looking behind her at Evangeline, who was waving at somebody else from above Rocio's head. "Yeah, Max, you can ask me," a greyed-hair man chimed in, coming out of the employee's office space. "Alright, Robert, no need to go sassy on me, I was playing."

Robert tapped on Rocio's back with his palm while laughing. Hearing the volume of his voice, we could have been out on the street for all I knew. "Thanks for joining, Max, we really needed more students." I would ask about the plural usage later. "Hey, Robert, glad to have joined. Although..." My focus shifted to his Chiefs shirt, half-hidden by one of those expensive jackets you get to keep for years.

"A Chiefs' jersey on the North East is wild" I gestured at his chest and Robert lowered his gaze. "Ha! He got you, Robert!" Rocio shouts in lower case, or maybe she shouts in normal case and it's just Robert who laughs like a waterfall. "Robert, I thought you changed your ways..." Evangeline acted a disapproving look while unlocking her laptop. "Alright, everybody, we need to calm down. Yesterday's game involved a large family gathering, so today I drove here on a rush..." I could see Robert's mouth starting to form a smirk.

"Besides, may I remind you, we have reached the Conference stage as of yesterday" Robert announced to the room, as he took off his jacket and a seat. His unabashed lavender shirt looked at us, asking for confrontation. "You guys are not beating the Broncos this year," Evangeline attacked first, pointing a pen at Robert. "Especially without that Maroma guy!" Rocio argued with her arms crossed. "Plus, y'all's coach is not fully on the championship, with his drama, that..." I was trying to remember the video I had seen on the Chiefs' coach a week prior, but Evangeline read my mind: "Yes, his divorce has been breaking his focus."

The front desk went silent for a few seconds. Evangeline grinned victorious. Rocio had a brow lifted at Robert, expecting. I was enjoying the triviality of a Monday. Robert parted lips and confronted Evangeline's gaze. "Well, what do we have here?" A new voice broke the silence before Robert could form his rebuke.

"Deann, who are you rooting for next Sunday?" Rocio intercepted a woman on jeans. "My, Rocio. You are always so filled with energy." Deann put a hand on Rocio's arm, and stared at Robert from the back. Her iris nearing amber, she appeared a cat who intimidates the most venturous of dogs. "And what a question..." Hand moving towards an accessory on the chest area.

"Of course I was cheering for the Patriots." Deann accompanied this with a smile that resembled a bad omen. "Oh no..." Evangeline whispered next to me. "What is it?" I walked two steps closer to her side of the table. "Deann is not best handling a loss." It clicked for me, upon hearing my boss' explanation. There are, after all, two archetypes for football old-heads. First, there is the fan who preaches the gospel of his team when the opportunity arises, and who, like Robert, signals himself as one through flashy mediums, the jersey being one of them. Second, there is the silent fan who, every year, convinces himself that their team will surmount every obstacle, no matter how bad the games in the past eleven months have been, no matter the experts' analysis on paper and on TV, no matter the appearance of other-teams' talent: the second fan will wear a pin all throughout the season, as a reminder to the mirror that his team cannot lose. If Deann belonged to the second category, everybody in this space was doomed to have their moods ruined.

"Robert, you should cover up. The AC's not good for you" Deann said as she dropped in front of him some pages stapled together. "And take a look at this partnership proposal, if you would be so kind." I quickly realized I was facing the boss of my boss, and I gulped. She had dismantled the smug speech that was forming within Robert in an instant. If it wasn't enough, she had called him old. Deann was a woman of a different caliber.

"Rocio. Dear." Deann's head was tilted. "I heard from our friend at the retirement home that there have been delays with the movie loans they requested through mail..." Rocio looked as if she was about to take a step back. "Oh, ye-" no more than two syllables were allowed, when Deann continued: "I understand it's still the Summer season, but I need you back on track. I know you, Rocio, you're extremely hard-working." Using but her tongue, Deann disarmed Rocio. I saw how a pair of light-brown eyes pointed at us, akin to a sniper rifle among the bushes.

"Evangeline, I need to thank you for handling the workload this past month." On instinct, I got closer to my boss' side, cutting off Deann. "And you as well, young man..." The top of the food chain look at my feet, ordering me to move, I supposed. "I'm Max, it's nice meeting you, Deann." On a purely vertical plane, Deann beat me by a few centimeters, and thus made it all the more stupid I was the one keeping the gate to my eight-feet-eleven boss. Nonetheless, after witnessing her unpleasant argument with a man inside a car, I considered barricading myself in front of a pissed Patriots fan the least I could do for Evangeline. "It's my pleasure as well." A formality remains a formality, Deann probably thought, as her hand extended towards mine.

Deann's hand was cold to the bone, making me lose vigor during the gripping phase of the handshake. My plan to graciously retreat from battle, however, remained intact: "You know, my mom's also a Patriots fan." I attempted a smile.

"Oh, really? Did you watch the game with your family?" The thunders of a storm dwindled. "Yeah, I watched it with my mom and her sisters." Tension dissipating. "It was a fun game, wasn't it?" The last directed stab. "With Silva getting 400 yards? You bet!" We both chuckled, settling for peace.

"Alright, then!" Deann clapped and we all paid attention. "Robert and Rocio, you know what's pending." The two fallen soldiers nodded. "Evangeline, how's Max doing so far? Do you think he needs more training?" I wished she asked me directly, but if this was the price of tranquility, I had no complaints.

"No, he's fine." My boss put a hand on my shoulder. "I trained him, after all." Would Evangeline get mad if I ever confessed that she makes me think of a well-intentioned bear? "Great, then I'll let you two handle the front!" Deann turned towards the staff room, followed by Roberto and Rocio.

"Deann reminds of my uncle" I tell Evangeline, once the door closes behind Rocio. "He gets passive-aggressive when his team loses." Evangeline fixated on the staff room's entrance, maybe awaiting for Deann to come back and send us flying away with a couple sentences and a pile of made-up tasks. Finally, she spoke: "That's just Deann. You don't want to see her when the Patriots do reach the Super Bowl..." I agreed, mouth shut.

"So today, do I need to go in search of more missing books?" I put on my employee badge and sat on the reception chair. "That's right. How many did you say you found on Thursday?" Evangeline placed her custom chair next to me. "Like six. But I haven't gone through the Engineering section yet, that's most likely where those unreturned textbooks are." I put my hands on the counter, signaling I was getting off the chair.

I started to walk towards the staircase when Evangeline called my name using a particular tone: "Say, Max." I really wanted none of it. Of my boss pleading with a car on the parking lot. Of my boss' voice trailing off as the driver rolled the passenger window on her fingers. Of Evangeline being everything but a professional. "What you saw on the parking lot..." There it was again. A new mental image of Evangeline I refused to form. I didn't turn around, not even upon hearing her next words: "Just promise me you won't be sharing that with others. Please."

"Don't stress it, boss. I promise you I will stay quiet." I put my hands on my pockets, and walked away. I really hate days like this. When you cannot simply talk about the Patriots' loss all day long.