Okay, keys, wallet, ID... Wait. Would the ID be enough? They don't ask for two, do they?
"Mocha," Gail says to her long-haired dachshund, who tilts her head, unimpressed. "If the bank needs two IDs, why wouldn't the library?"
She digs through her cabinet. Vanilla-colored folders flutter out beautifully like butterflies in spring. Red folder: irreplaceables — deed, car title, birth certificate, first-ever school award. East Meadows Elementary, Honor Roll, Mathematics.
She opens the pink folder: finances, highlighted, six years of neat expenses.
"Do you think they'll check my credit score before lending me a book, Mocha?"
Mocha sashays away.
Ever since she saw the movie "Brazil" where someone was wrongfully executed because of faulty paperwork, she's never let go of any supporting documents.
"Wait! What books should I check out?"
Gail powers up her desktop, wipes last night's layer of dust with a microfiber cloth, and searches: "Top 10 books to read at 24."
She freezes. "Oh god. What if they think I'm showing off? And what kind of reader doesn't own a library card? They'll get right through you, Gail, RIGHT through you."
Mocha yawns from the doorway.
"Fine," Gail mutters. "Just say I should get a self-help book already."