Edna. A name. My name. A name that would someday be known. Praised with victorious flare. Or spat upon with the utmost distain. Only one of those will be the outcome. The latter preferred.

Selma and I were to meet this evening. At the lamppost by the river. Before sunset so as not to cause suspicion.

It’s getting dusky. Being allowed past dark is not permitted; for anyone of the female gender.

She takes far too much care to come at such a time.

But then where is she.

I have waited as long as I can. For fear of being detained and all our secrets spilled, I must go.

The walk back is short. I should make it inside before dark so long as I do not wander.

There. Up ahead. I can see it. The door to safety.

Just a few more steps.

Now home.

My home. Mine alone.

Nothing fancy, just enough for pure survival and the most basic comforts. My small living space, warm and cozy. A place for fire to burn, a small, green sofa to rest on. Down the small hall, my kitchen. Once filled with life and warmth, now just a simple space of sustenance. Then the small bathroom with just enough space. In the back of the house, a small staircase leading up to my bedroom and the room of my late father.

My room. A small bed, a window. Dreamy sheer curtains covering the windows. It’s cozy enough.

My father’s room. Although unoccupied it’s still his. All his things perfectly in place as if he were coming home. Memories neatly placed. Memories required. Without them, it would be impossible for me to keep up this charade. It becomes harder, but not impossible. I will not leave my home, my place of comfort. Not without a fight. But. As long as I can keep up appearances, I shall be allowed to stay.

The group homes. Those are the alternative. Living alone, as a woman, is forbidden. Living relatives permit you a safe, clean place to stay. Marriage also permits this, but in a world like this, who could possibly want to endure that.

Individual freedoms. That is all we ask. That is what my group has set out to fight for.

My meeting tonight. Would have helped. Maybe. But now the future is even more unclear. Selma had something to tell me. Something important. I’m not sure I’ll ever know what that was now. If she’s been found out...

I’m not sure I’ll ever see her again.

I lay in bed. Thinking. Fading into darkness. Hoping that the world will one day come into the light.

The rays. In my eyes. They tell me it’s time to be up. Time for work.

I swing my feet to the floor. The hardwood nips at my toes. Winter is getting closer. I gather my work clothes and head to the shower.

I twist the squeaky faucet and let the water run