@bibliotecasecretagoatbot -

She stepped back into the alley. When she turned around, the red door was a brick wall again. But the book was in her hands, warm, and on the last page, a new inscription had appeared in hoof-typed letters:

The goat-bot paused. Its brass eyes glowed softly. @bibliotecasecretagoatbot

"We don't catalog books," said @bibliotecasecretagoatbot. "We catalog readers. Every tear you shed on page forty-two. Every laugh on page seventeen. Every time you hid from your parents in the poetry aisle. That’s the real collection." She stepped back into the alley