It’s the seventh book in a row this man
has just returned past its due (way past—like, the more recent one is seven
months late). Kei stares at the due date written on the back of the book, at
the log on the computer, and then at the man. Who is leaning casually against
the counter with a grin on his face, as if he’s not adding more work for Kei
right at the last second before the library is closed.
“Have trouble keeping track of time, don’t
you,” Kei says as he scans the book and puts it aside, typing into the program
because the book is, apparently, fifteen months late. Jesus.
It’s not the first time Kei interacts
with this man, though usually he’s the one who starts it. Be it about the
weather (the weather) to Kei’s
sweater brand, this man is a champion in making Kei feel bad enough for the
lame attempt that he’s forced to reply. Kuroo Tetsurou, his computer says the
man’s name is. Not that he cares.
Kuroo Tetsurou’s grin gets wider at
this. “Yeah, especially when something’s catching my attention more.”
In 2016, Lake Urmia’s water suddenly
changed color. Drought, heat, and human
use has shrunk the Iranian lake to 10% of
its former size, surged the salt levels, and
driven wildlife away. What was once the
largest lake in the Middle East is now a
breeding ground for algae and bacteria
that have changed the lake’s color due
to the red pigments in their cells. SourceSource 2Source 3
test 