I went to the univerisity library to see what he was talking about.
There was Seble Arlington the librarian. She was a woman in her forties who looked like she could pass as my Aunt.
“Good afternoon, Bolatito.” She greeted me.
She was one of the few people not in my family that always called me by my real name. I guess it was a continental connection since she was from Ethiopia and my parents emigrated from Lagos.
“I’m here to get some books for my next essay in Dr. Giroux’s class. What’s this about Sylvester Wheeler having some non-fiction essays?”
Seble laughed a bit. “Well, he’s written more than just fantasy stories. Come with me. You’d be surprised how conscious he was.”