Mild

“It was fucking garbage, Wayne.”

“Hey, cmon, I liked it.”

“Oh, you liked a mindless action movie with scantily clad Hollywood women and explosions every 5 minutes? Stop the presses!”

This argument between Wayne and Sylvia had been going on like this from the moment they walked out of the theatre right up until now, as a promising anniversary date was slowly turned sour by the Hollywood machine.

“It's not my fault if you can't appreciate the nuance and subtext of a movie like this.”

Twenty bucks an hour, let me tell you, that sort of pay is a miracle in today’s entry level job market. Probably because the people running this business think it’s necessary to justify what the job entails. I think that’s hilarious, I would have done this for free.

The sound of a page occasionally being turned was more or less the only thing audible throughout most of the building, save for maybe the odd creaking of a chair or a cough or two. Of course, though, libraries tend to be like that at the best of times. It was particularly quiet, however, on the evening at which he found himself taking up residence in a secluded wing of the library for some quality reading time.

The young woman was confident, the young man nervous.  She, tall, red-haired and freckled in a crop top, jeans, and sandals with a duffel bag over her shoulder; he, a tanned brunet, in deep blue swim pants, being lead along by her by a long leash connected to a collar.  They did, naturally, draw attention from others in the park, if not when they appeared than when they stopped, in the middle of the widest expanse of grass.