He loved the library. He didn’t need to work there of course. He had a home office quiet and connected enough to be a haven for his research. He even had an office at work – no-one wanted them any more. But he went to the library. He sometimes imagined the generations of researchers before him who’d sat in the leather chairs, ordering up the documents and waiting for them to be delivered to their desk. He leaned back and looked again at the vaulted ceiling and waited for his documents. They arrived instantly of course but he liked to pretend.