Time’s A Wasting

by Mike Mayak

“Okay, how much time we got?” Ernesto asked.

“Meter says three hours and thirty two minutes,” Mark said, glancing at the digital display.

Ernesto looked at his watch. “It’s twelve-thirty now, that means we…”

“Wait a minute,” Mark said. “You sure that’s local time? We hit the year not the hour.”

“That’s why I had the radio on,” Ernesto said. “Checking the time.”

“The music of this era sucks,” Mark said.

“You want good music? We can hit 1946 or something,” Ernesto said.

Mark glanced around and quickly kissed Ernesto. He wasn’t sure what the mores in this era were.

“At least we don’t have to put money in that meter,” Mark said.

“Yeah, but if we don’t get back in time we’re stuck here in time.” Ernesto said. “Forty years in the past.”

Mark looked around as they walked down the sidewalk. Towards the center of town. “Twenty-Twenty-Five,” he breathed. “Wow.”

“Yeah, but we’re not here to sightsee, we’re here to find someone.” Ernesto said. “My Father.”

—-end—