Relationships

Amy closed her anthropology textbook with a satisfied thwack. She pushed away from the study carrel in the library stacks and knuckled her lower back, twisting until her vertebrae snap-crackle-popped into alignment. No matter what Professor Dillard threw at her tomorrow night, she was ready. She hoped. While she stuffed reams of notes into her backpack, she heard her friends and coworkers as the inevitable symphony played in her head, heavy on the percussion.

Go back to school, Amy. You put that jerk of a husband through school. He dumped you, and good riddance. It's your turn now. Go. Relax. Meet some new people. Intelligent people. Not the riffraff that comes into the diner. Have a fling.

Right. As if she had time to meet any of these intelligent people. Most avoided her like she was some kind of plague-ridden alien. Like age was contagious. Good heavens, she was only thirty-five. She zipped her pack. So what? No matter what her friends said, she was here for an education, not a social life.