^^ Thank you. I guess I didn't need to worry.
But I think I'm all set. I think this will fall under the parameters of the theme; if not, let me know.
The Fogg Library in South Weymouth. A magical place to a nine-year-old who was new in town. From the outside, it looked like a castle. Inside, there were rows of overflowing bookshelves, a study room full of encyclopedias both general and specific, a sitting room with couches and a fireplace, and a wide staircase going up to the mysterious attic. And there was the old copy machine by the door, which chugged like a steam train and gave out warm sheets of white paper accompanied by the sweet smell of black ink. In the Winter, it was an oasis from the cold; in the Summer, the hot air rose to the high ceilings, leaving it cool and pleasant like a cave. And, of course, the endless books, their hard covers wrapped in scuffed plastic, their pulpy pages tinged vaguely yellow and smelling a bit musty, and filled with the infinite wonderment of stories and poems and history and science. In short, the closest thing to heaven yet created.