A lone bag slouches on a shelf.
Filled with books, all ready for tiny hands.
It sits.
And sits.
And waits.
A lone being approaches the bag, smiling.
It lifts the bag and brings it to a cart.
It’s filled with other, bigger bags.
A day passes.
The bags wait.
The being returns and moves the cart to a vehicle
Where it loads the bags and cart.
The vehicle moves for what seems like ages.
It stops.
The being is back, and it lifts the bag and carries it into a house.
After some time, the tiny hands appear.
Two, four, six, eight, ten, twelve, too many to count.
They empty the bag.
Waiting to be refilled, it sits on the floor, satisfied that it has brought the books to the tiny hands.
A month passes.
The being returns.
The bag is refilled,
Reset in the vehicle,
Transported home,
Cleaned, and set on the shelf
Where it will wait for the next being who will transport it to new sets of tiny hands.
