Edit: I've decided to post a picture of a city in each of the remaining City of Books posts (there's only like, 2 left). I think Jett's world is a combination of these pictures. I just can't find one picture that would adequately describe his world.
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Elsa sighed. She didn’t mind rain generally; she liked the clean smell it brought. But not today. The rain pelted down mercilessly on the wide, clear windows, and angry clouds hung in the sky.
She finished typing up the last of the letters Mr. Everitt had given her that morning. At last, he had started to trust her with more than filing; nowadays, she typed up letters and prepared his materials for those rare company meetings he held. She supposed that was an improvement, but she still did not like her job. She wanted to do something that couldn’t be done over; she had a suspicion that Mr. Everitt had taken to letting her do the “rough draft” and then redoing it later after she’d gone home. She’d seen one of her typed letters in the garbage last week.
She sighed again, but brightened at the thought of the contents of her bag. She usually completed all her work by noon, so she had made it a habit to bring other things to do. Namely, books. There was only her and Mr. Everitt on the top floor of this building, so naturally it was the perfect place to read in quiet.
She glanced at the doors. Had she just heard something? A tiny sound, barely audible. There it was again. A sob, she was sure of it. Elsa stood up. Goosebumps travelling up her arms, she slowly stepped to the doors. Taking a breath, she reached for the golden knob, and paused. It was shaped like a compass! A golden compass…
But then the sound came again from within, and she pushed the heavy doors open. They swung wide to show an empty room. The whimpers had stopped as well, but Elsa could see a trail of light-coloured bread crumbs against the dark plum of the carpet. ‘Strange’, she thought. She followed them to the back of his office, somewhere she had never been before. There was a short passage here, and at the end of it, a tiny girl, tears flooding her clear blue eyes.
“Sweetie, what are you doing? How did you get in?” Elsa asked, crouching next to the girl. The child turned her blotched face, sniffed, and then mumbled a few words, none of which Elsa could make out clearly. The girl suddenly stared past her. Elsa looked around, straight into the shocked face of Mr. Everitt.
“What are doing in my room? I thought I had made it clear that you are not to come into my room until two,” he said softly. His voice was stiff, but Elsa only saw the upset look on his face.
“I-I just heard the child crying, so I came in to see what was going on,” she stammered, averting her eyes.
“Do you really want to know?” he asked.
“W-well, I-I suppose,” she faltered, surprised by this turn of events. She was nervous, but intrigued by the sudden emotion he was showing. “Who is this girl?”
“You’ll have to come with me,” he said briskly, his face becoming smooth once more. He led her to the end of the passageway, and what she had thought was a window was actually another glass elevator.
“Why, Mr. Everitt!” she gasped. “Why on earth do you have an elevator in here?”
“To go down,” he said simply. They stepped in, the child slipping her hand into his hand. And with a great whoosh they disappeared down into darkness.
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