I was drowsing in a stuffy old armchair beside my window when I hear a sharp crack, as if something had grabbed onto either side of reality and ripped it apart.

My eyes popped open. I looked up.

There, smiling down at me through large round eye glasses, stood a luminescent figure of indeterminate age. A fringe of silver hair fluttered around a cherubic face and an enormous bowtie festooned with punctuation marks sprung like the wings of a butterfly from either side of his chin.

“Good evening,” he said, his voice as gentle as the sound talcum powder makes when sprinkled on our toes.

I blinked.

“Who …What …?”

He wiggled his fingers as though limbering them up to play the piano and announced, “I am your Fairy God Librarian.”

I have wanted many things in life, some of which I don’t deserve, but never on that list had I put a Fairy God Librarian. I crossed my arms over my chest and harrumphed skeptically, “Next you’ll be telling me that I get three wishes.”

“Not three,” He said thoughtfully. “Just one.” Then he turned toward the bookshelves lining my wall. “It is a special kind of a wish. Very, very special. Because you get to make a wish-list of books!”