I volunteer at a library. This note wasn't in the book when I shelved it.

I thought the title was pretty self-explanatory, but a couple of you mentioned that you think this is fake. (Read: it was my idea and I thought it would get a good response, but I didn't write it.)<br><br>I volunteer at a library. I love it. I have to put stock away in the morning, then I'm free to sit in the corner and do my own school work. I have a 3 hour commitment on Tuesdays and Thursdays, which works out well for me because I have 3 hours of free time between my classes on those days. I can get a ton of work done, but I get a lunch break, which is nice.<br><br>Long story short, I was putting the books away, and I noticed this note. It jammed about 3 books together. I wasn't sure what it was at first, and then I pulled it out.<br><br>Warning: This is not a work of fiction. Do not read it. There is no story. There is no happy ending. This is not a realistic depiction of life. This is real. If you're looking for a happy ending, it's in the fiction section, which is on the second floor, and completely inaccessible to you at this time. If you feel you MUST read this, please read it in the center aisle. Don't take it to a table. You might break something.<br><br>I didn't know what to do. I didn't know what "this" was. I looked around, but there was no one else in the room. It was only 9am. Classes didn't start until 10:30, so I knew I'd be alone for a while. I sat down at a table, right near a window, and began to read.<br><br>This is not a work of fiction. Do not read it. There is no story. There is no happy ending. This is not a realistic depiction of life. This is real. If you're looking for a happy ending, it's in the fiction section, which is on the second floor, and completely inaccessible to you at this time. If you feel you MUST read this, please read it in the center aisle. Don't take it to a table. You might break something.<br><br>I rolled my eyes. I thought this was my supervisor's idea of a joke. I decided to play along and sat in the center aisle as the instructions had said, and read on.<br><br>This is not a work of fiction. Do not read it. There is no story. There is no happy ending. This is not a realistic depiction of life. This is real. If you're looking for a happy ending, it's in the fiction section, which is on the second floor, and completely inaccessible to you at this time. If you feel you MUST read this, please read it in the center aisle. Don't take it to a table. You might break something.<br><br>After about 5 pages, I got bored. This was ridiculous. I felt like I was trapped in some weird Groundhog Day loop, and I couldn't escape. I got up and put the book back on the shelf, my temper getting the better of me. I decided I'd just go back to work, which, of course, meant putting the books away. I came back to the shelf where I'd found the note, and there it was, still sitting on top of the stack of books, the same three or four books jammed together out of place. <br><br>I picked it up, wondering if I'd somehow moved it back to the shelf, but I definitely didn't. I didn't even pick it up off the table until I came back to put the books away. I could swear that. <br><br>I decided to read a little more. Five more pages at least, if they were all the same. Again, I sat in the center aisle. <br><br>This is not a work of fiction. Do not read it. There is no story. There is no happy ending. This is not a realistic depiction of life. This is real. If you're looking for a happy ending, it's in the fiction section, which is on the second floor, and completely inaccessible to you at this time. If you feel you MUST read this, please read it in the center aisle. Don't take it to a table. You might break something.<br><br>I felt a tap on my shoulder. "You okay, sweetie?" My supervisor was standing next to me. "Did you fall asleep or something?" I sat up with a start, looking around the room. It was definitely not 9am anymore. The tables were full of students, heads bent over their laptops and notes, typing furiously away as the semester drew to a close. <br><br>"What time is it?" I asked. "I have a lecture at 10:30. Did I miss it?"<br><br>"I think you definitely missed it," she replied. "It's 4:15." I stared at her, confused, and rubbed my eyes. <br><br>"Then why are there so many students?" I asked, trying not to raise my voice. <br><br>"Well, they're studying for exams. But there really aren't that many in here. This is our slow time." I was confused. I didn't recognize this woman, and I didn't recognize the room. I got up, my head pounding, my stomach churning with nausea. I stumbled out into the hallway. <br><br>I was in a hallway. There was a stone floor, and stone walls. There were windows, but they were small and narrow. There was a wooden door at either end of the hallway. I didn't know which way to go, so I wandered the hallway, calling out. No one answered. <br><br>Eventually I found my car in the parking lot, parked in the visitor spaces. I didn't know how it got there, or how I got there, either. I got in my car and drove home. I didn't go to my classes that day. When my parents called to ask how my day was, I told them I'd just been putting books away. Nothing exciting had happened. I felt sick, and the idea of class made me feel even sicker, so I stayed home and went to bed. <br><br>I had a nightmare that, no matter how fast I ran, I was getting smaller and smaller, and my legs were shorter and shorter, until my legs were only centimeters long and I was only a few inches tall. <br><br>I woke up, and everything was okay. It was Saturday morning. I felt bad for missing class, but my friends told me that I hadn't missed anything important, and at least I'd gotten a good story out of it. <br><br>I went back to the library on Monday, and I told my supervisor about my whole experience. She'd never left a note like that in a book. And, of course, there was no book in the shelf where I'd put it back. I told her I think I might have come down with something, or maybe even had a seizure. She was concerned. She asked me about the note. <br><br>"What was in it?" she asked me. <br><br>But I couldn't tell her. I showed her this.