It was a winter's day. There was no rain, but it had grey skies and goosebumps on any exposed skin. At a library, in one suburb near the city, automatic doors hissed open and a green frog hopped inside. The doors closed and it continued to bounce forwards on a journey across the carpet and towards the front desk where the head librarian sat. The librarian, in her late thirties and wearing a cardigan and large reading glasses, watched the frog until its last hop landed it on her keyboard. Startled, but not alarmed, she monitored the frog, smelling the dour water on its rubbery skin. The frog also watched, not saying anything nor moving except for the slight, rhythmic pulsing of its throat sac.
It was a quiet day at the library; the frog and librarian looked at each other for about five minutes. Then she picked an A4 flyer for a coming local Greek festival from her desk, slid it between the keyboard and the frog and used it to carry him outside. As she returned and resettled in her chair there was a hiss of automatic doors and the frog came in and sat again, looking at her. She found another flyer, repeated reseating the amphibian and released him slightly further away from the entrance.
The librarian sat down and this time had a moment to smooth her skirt and pick up a biro before she found the frog on her desk again. Once more they made eye-contact in the silent library. For a brief moment the frog swivelled an eyeball to the side, and back again. The librarian followed where his gaze went, seeing the rows of shelves all full of books. Leaving the frog, she walked to a shelf of books set to be thrown away, picked one that wasn't too heavy and brought it back to her desk. The frog took the book, about faced and carried it out the library.
The librarian thought the experience was a little odd, but continued on with her daily tasks. An hour later the doors hissed open and the frog returned to the front desk and stared at her again. After an optimistic pause she sighed, chose another book and brought it back. The frog's expression didn't change, but again he took the book and carried it away.
Early in the afternoon the librarian was dusting shelves when she heard the doors open and she looked down to find the frog, who gazed back up expectantly. Convinced this was not a coincidence the librarian went to the shelves, picked out another book and gave it to the frog. Despite struggling with the weight he slowly hopped back into the street. This time, overcome with curiosity, she left her post and also went outside. Careful to keep a distance she followed the frog down the street and into a lane which led to a small park. She crept behind a tree as the frog lugged the book across the grass and to a small shrub. Behind the shrub was a chicken, well feathered and proud. As the frog approached the shrub the chicken turned around. The frog produced the book and gave it to the chicken, and the chicken said 'Book! Book! Book! Book!'