Elaine brushed the salsa from her blouse. This was why she always wore dark colors. Food, drinks, pen markings inevitably ended up on her clothing. It was also why she always kept a cardigan handy to wrap around her shoulders and cover the evidence.
She wasn’t clumsy. She just was careless with anything that wasn’t parchment. Fabrics shuddered when she pulled them onto her body. Each article of clothing knew their time in her closet would be short-lived.
But the books on her shelves got the utmost care. Weekly dusting. A heavy curtain over the window to protect them from light. Thick comforters on her bed, so that the books didn’t suffer the dreaded AC unit being on for too long or at all.
A side of chips and guacamole appeared before her on Elaine’s table. She looked up to see Juan Castro grinning down at her.
“On the house,” said Juan.
Elaine pushed the salty treat back toward him. “No gracias.”
“Oh, come on, Elaine. It’s not an engagement ring.”
Elaine shuddered and slipped her cardigan over her shoulders. It might as well be. That’s how most animal mating rituals began. The male would offer the female the choicest morsels of food. And then he would pounce.
Elaine had no interest in being pounced on. Her belly was full of tacos, which she’d paid for herself. No matter that a good portion of it was on her shirt.
“I’m not even asking for a dinner date, just lunch,” said Juan.
“Juan, you know I don’t date.”
“No woman doesn’t date.”
“This woman does.” Elaine paused, examining her sentence structure. “Doesn’t. Whatever. We’ve been through this before.”
Elaine gathered her book. She removed the napkin from her book and pressed a cloth bookmark between the pages to hold her space. Not that she needed the reminder. She’d read Tess of the d’Urbervilles from cover to cover more times than she could count. And the book looked as pristine as the day she’d bought it.
Placing the book carefully in her bag, Elaine scooted out of the booth and around Juan. The man was unrelenting. But she came here every Tuesday for the last four years because the tacos were to die for. She grabbed the to-go bag for Mary, making a mental note that next time it would be Mary’s turn to come out for Taco Tuesday to-go.
Mary easily dealt with male attention. Because Mary wanted male attention. Elaine did not.
“I don’t think you’ve dated anyone since high school,” said Juan.
He was wrong. Elaine hadn’t dated anyone in high school. She hadn’t dated anyone in college either. What was the point? More than fifty percent of all marriages ended in divorce. And those that didn’t held the two participants trapped in a cycle of unhappiness.
Why bother? All Elaine needed was her books to keep her warm at night. She was happy getting lost in a story where she knew how it ended. And most stories she read ended in tragedy, thus confirming that true love was a made-up concept by the Hallmark Channel.
“Just a coffee,” Juan said.
“See you next Taco Tuesday, Juan.” Elaine left a tip on the counter and headed out the exit.
The fall air was brisk. She cradled her book to her chest. Her cell phone buzzed in her pocket. Elaine backed up off the sidewalk and under an awning to answer it. She wasn’t one to walk and talk, or worse, walk and text. Safety first, especially since she was often carrying one of her precious books in her bag.
Elaine pulled her phone out of her bag to see that it was a text from Mary. “Hurry back,” it read. “Exciting news.”
Elaine could use some exciting news. Jobs as a librarian were hard to come by in today’s world. Many circulation desks were turning digital. Like the science fiction novels she detested, artificial intelligence was taking over her world. If they didn’t figure out something to increase circulation at the library and get more bodies into the building, Elaine’s job might be in jeopardy in the near future.
“On my way,” she texted back. Then put her phone back into her bag.
Elaine waved to a few people she knew as she headed back down the main street. She’d lived in this town her whole life, deciding to stay after her parents’ latest divorce. Elaine had gotten the house in the second divorce. It had always been the one constant in her life, and so she’d decided to stick close to it. Her parents were long gone; this town had always felt like home to Elaine. So, she’d staked her roots.
She liked the predictability of small-town living. She liked knowing all of her neighbors. She liked that change moved at a slow progress. Slow she could handle. Fast and unpredictable, she didn’t like.
A man was moving slowly across the street. Elaine noted that he was tall, well-built. He walked with his shoulders straight like he had a purpose. His stride was long, sure. But his head was down, so she couldn’t see his eyes.
He wasn’t looking down at his phone. He was looking down at a book. More than wanting to see what color his eyes were, she wanted to know what he was reading.
A car rounded the corner. The reader was almost out of the crosswalk and to her side of the street. But he wasn’t looking up, so he didn’t see the car.
It took Elaine a second to make her decision. She dropped her bag to the ground. Then she dashed out into the street.
Her hands wrapped around his wrists, making sure to cradle the book he held. And then she gave the big man a tug.
They tumbled to the ground. Elaine felt the impact on her shoulders and bottom. She was going to be bruised in the morning. But what hurt most was her head. Her good deed for the day would leave her with a headache for the rest of the afternoon.
Brown. His eyes were brown. That was the last thing she remembered.
That and the title of his book. It was a science fiction book. One where the AI’s take over the planet. Fitting.
And then everything went black.