“What is wrong with people?” I was checking returned books in, flipping through them looking for damage. “What are you whining about now?” The voice came from the opposite corner of our small library. I couldn’t see her, but I knew it was Jackie. She was a regular, doing research for her next book. “Ketchup and mustard!” I yelled. “People are pigs,” she responded. We were the only two in the library. It was a Tuesday evening. We closed in an hour and I didn’t expect a crowd this late, especially with a November snowstorm starting. Jackie and I would hop in our Jeeps and get home just fine, but most people wouldn’t venture to the library in this weather, this late. To my surprise, the front door opened. I didn’t recognize him. He was a typical northwoodsman. The hiking boots, flannel shirt, canvas coat, and beard would have been perfect for our town’s tourist brochure. He walked straight to me. “Hi. What can I help you with?” I asked. “Where is the gay porn section?” I l