Free Evolution by Cody Toye Page B

comforter, and to the left of the old phonograph was a large wooden bookshelf. Her fingers ran over the paperbacks on the top, analyzing the names for a hidden deeper meaning.
    Smut. Until this very moment, that was how Alex truly thought of romance novels. She thought only lonely women who felt weak and felt insecure would dare to read and fantasize a storyline where men were strong and women were damsels in distress. She thought that the only meaning they held was that the reader needed reminding that love does exist, even if only in their mind and only in the neat binding of a paperback.
    Granny Mae was a strong independent woman. A true warrior for women’s rights and the only woman she has ever met to be perfectly content without a husband. No. Alex understood on a deeper level now. She looked closer and let her mind wonder. It was the complete opposite as she thought. These particle books were written by women for women. The need to feel love from a man, for whatever reason, was not relevant while reading these paperbacks.
    By women for women. A smile crossed her face as she lifted the third one from the left and examined it closer. “ Heart’s Summer” Book three in the Heart’s series. Written by Irene Norwood. The entire shelf of romance novels, were small glimpses into Granny Mae. A piece of her soul, her personality bled onto pages and captured for all of eternity.
    Dusting off the cover, she thumbed through the pages, choosing one at random. She did more than read; she ate the words like the very last piece of steak in the entire world. Savory. The words that were written by a woman who dared to truly live her life in a time where life barely seemed livable for women.
    “ She refused to allow emotion to surface. Rosemary faced all the indignities with grace and honor, a victim of circumstance and a survivor. She knew her fate was sealed when Charles had his first sip of Brandy. The evidence of the summer of discontent still stung her face. She also knew that by summers end, Charles would be begging for forgiveness.”
    Alex reread the passage, trying to decipher a hidden meaning. Was there one? She recalled a brief conversation with Granny Mae and how she so lovingly told her about Herbert. Alex closed her eyes and let the woman’s voice carry like waves towards the shoreline. She could hear her voice and see her posture as she spoke.
    “He has a mighty appetite, he reminds me of my late husband Herbert. He always was a big eater. I remember making this exact same meal for him. Of course, I wouldn’t dare butcher the family pet for that man. He wasn’t worth the effort. Awful man.”
    Herbert was Charles and it really was a summer of discontent. Granny Mae. A tough old bird. She placed the paperback back on the shelf and slowly walked back towards the living room. Her head filled with visions. On the sofa where the large beefy body of her brother once occupied was an empty spot. Just air.
    Panic crept up and a new sense of urgency filled her to the brim. Her feet felt heavy and her legs were unresponsive. Alex started screaming and the room seemed cold. Unfamiliar. His name carried on the air and the house was filled with the hollow echo of fear. Nothing. No sound came as a reply.
    After the third attempt, she felt the knot in her stomach grow from apple seed to watermelon. She ran as fast as her legs could carry her, flinging open every door in the house. Her toes curled in her shoes and her feet clapped loudly, mimicking non rhythmic music.
    With the process of elimination, Alex saw only one door. The hallway seemed to stretch for miles and her breath caught in her throat. This was it. If she flung the door open and Boomer wasn’t behind it, she wouldn’t know what to do.  She would be lost without her brother. Alone. Utterly alone in a vicious world where love and hope was scarce. Boomer was her reason to keep on breathing.
    Alex closed her eyes and flung the door open. What she saw behind the door