The Slow-Cooked Sentence

The first time I saw the star it was 3:40 in the afternoon, a strange time to see a star, for sure, and stranger still that it was inside the library. Later, I realized this was a good place for a star to hang out, the library being quiet and dim. Perhaps that’s why I noticed him, for the faintest glow surrounded him, like a nickel shining on a sidewalk. His face was etched like a nickel, too, a gray face scratched with even grayer lines.