“Yeah.” Mary Beth smiled. Then she looked to Tracy. “Is h..she okay?” She remembered the lecture about using the right words in time.

Both Mary Beth and her sister looked a little worried at the intensity of Sage's glare. “No.” Mary Beth said.

Thanks to Djkauf for the editing.

Please note, but to the almost graphic nature of this post, I upped the rating. I promise the fun stuff shall return someday.

As a transgendered archaeologist, I never expected that translating those ancient clay tablets would provide me with a personal link to the distant past.

On Sunday morning, Justin got up stealthily and tried to conceal his vomiting from his father. It didn't work, the simple layout of the house defeated him; the only bathroom was in between his bedroom and his father's.

"Are you okay, son?" Harold Bock asked.

"Yeah, Dad, I'll live." The nausea had seized him as he lay awake in his bed wondering if he would ever talk to Zoe again, talk to her alone. He'd probably see her at school, though she was a senior and he a sophmore. Their schedules would not naturally intersect that often.

This is a bit melancholy, but it wanted to be written and I just tried to keep up with what my muse was dictating. I hope you like it.

Song Credit to Ronnie Milsap: Lost In The 50s Tonight. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hPDBGtr5asM
Lost In The Fifties Tonight, by Catherine Linda Michel

Oh yes, I remember... so, so well that night, the music, the feeling of being held in your arms, swaying together and hoping the moment would never end.

Close your eyes babyӬFollow my hear-eartӬ
Call on the mem'rie-ie-ies, ӬHere in the dar-ark
ӬWe'll let the magic Ӭ