The snow fell, heavy, wet, and Josh trudged

The snow fell, heavy, wet, and Josh trudged through it headed for home. The weight in his stomach got heavier with each step. How could he tell his mom the truth when he didn't

even know if the baby was his? Of course Linda said it was his, but maybe it wasn't. His mom would never understand. Josh turned up his driveway and stopped walking. He thought

about the baby. If it wasn't his, he was free to walk. No one would blame him. He hated a lot of stuff about Linda, but she wasn't the worst. But he couldn't leave them. Even if

he died.

But then he rose again, exactly as predicted in the ancient scrolls. This time he came back as an Amazonian woman named Barbarella. Powerful, fierce and with a bad habit of

but spit her back up because she tasted horrible. she was half alive when the wild boy came up and grabbed her and promised he would never leave her and that he will always be by

to say hello on the fourth and seventeenth of each month. His schedule is incredibly full, but he confirmed that he could pencil her in those days, but only from 4:18 to 4:23. He

felt guilty for volunteering a precious 5 minutes of his busy schedule just to say hello to her. Why wast the fourth and seventeenth of each month. It amounted to 10 min a month or

an eternity by some Bergsonian reckoning. But every speech act was both an outlashing and self-entrapment in the throttling coils and miasma of which space-time was only the crust.