I blinked at Mrs. Morrison. It was Monday morning, which meant I was helping The Aunts with their volunteer work at the local assisted-living facility, Hensley Manor. They visited at least three times a week, sometimes arranging activities for the residents, sometimes just to chat or sneak in homemade cookies. My Aunts genuinely liked helping people, but they also liked to remind themselves that while they might be old, they weren’t that old yet. I was usually too busy to help during the school year, but during the summer I tried to commit at least one day a week to being in charge of the mobile library, which was really just a rolling cart full of paperbacks. Paperbacks that were not smutty enough for Mrs. Morrison. I glanced back over the rows of spines, trying to find something that had the word “savage” in the title, finally settling on a bright pink book with half-naked people on the front, and a very alarmed-looking swan in the background.
