April is the cruelest month, breeding lilacs

April is the cruelest month, breeding lilacs out of the dead land, mixing memory and desire, stirring dull roots with spring rain.

Melanie finished reading and brought her eyes up to glance at her classmates. Billy was picking his nose. Tom was fast asleep. Christine was flicking her the bird. No appreciation.

So I didn't. I acted on impulse, not knowing what would come of it.

I was surprised when nothing happened at all. Literally. The world around me became an empty void. It was just me and my ex, floating in the vacuum. Awkward.

But then, in a void and vacuum, my ex didn't seem that bad anymore. Without gravity or color, all our "good times" floated up into my mind. I started wondering why we broke up in t

he summer of 1998. Nevertheless, something within me paused, tightened on the inside. Instinct is like a never ending tap drip in the subconscious. I picked up my phone and texted

"Doc, how did I end up back in 1998?" to Christopher Lloyd's number. I didn't really believe it was his number, much less that he would answer, but when my phone beeped 2 min later

, Christopher Lloyd was on the line. "I can't do anything to help you return to the present," he whispered. "You'll have to stay in 1998...at least for now." Click. I wasn't disapp

ointed. I knew Mr. Lloyd was busy beating up a load of eldery prostitutes for R. L. Stine. I made the most of things by enjoying two years of the internet when it was still good.