I only wanted to return a dog-eared mystery novel. That’s it. No fanfare, no spotlight, just me and a slightly overdue copy of The Mystery of the Missing Scone. But fate had other plans: I walked into Maplebrook Public Library and straight into Beyoncé’s book club.
The Glorious Mistake
It began with whispers: “She’s here.” I assumed it was about a librarian shelving too loudly. Instead, there she was—Beyoncé herself, seated at the head of a long oak table, flipping through Toni Morrison as if it were a personal letter. My jaw dropped, but my library card remained steady. Beyoncé glanced up, smiled, and said, “You joining us?” Reader, I joined.
The Club of Dreams
There were candles (electric, because safety first), there were hors d’oeuvres (tiny lemon tarts), and there was Beyoncé asking for everyone’s interpretation of Chapter Seven. I said, “I thought it was about resilience.” She nodded. Beyoncé nodded at me. That’s when I knew my life had peaked.
Other celebrities appeared, as if summoned by the Dewey Decimal System itself. Tom Hanks emerged from the biography section with cookies. Oprah checked out three hardcovers and returned with insights. Even Ryan Gosling whispered, “Shhh,” to someone texting. It was like a dream choreographed by a librarian angel.
The Afterglow
When the meeting wrapped, Beyoncé personally stamped my library card. “Support your libraries,” she said, her voice brighter than fluorescent bulbs. I walked home in a daze, clutching both my overdue fine receipt and a slice of leftover lemon tart. Somewhere in the distance, a choir sang—or maybe it was just the air conditioner.
Polly’s note: Sometimes life sneaks up with glitter, books, and Beyoncé. If you ever stumble into the wrong room, don’t apologize. Sit down, open the book, and let the magic happen.
