BG Sparrow

Marty anticipated a few overzealous groupies with the rockstar life, but he hadn't expected to find one while strumming "Swanee River" at last year's Fourth of July festival. Sarah Isaacs still refused to take a hint; she was determined hers just weren't coming across.

The height and silhouette were right, but her run-of-the-mill khakis and shirt had been replaced with a sleeveless turtleneck dress, fishnet running the length of her arms. An emerald pendant winked at him from the short, black ensemble, a swath of purple eyeshadow hooded each heavily lined eye, and her hair was up, a voluminous layer of long bangs haphazardly hairsprayed out of her face. She belonged in a music video.

"Oh, my God." Emma lifted her skirts and bolted for the wide-open barn doors. The horses were gone, but the room descended on her senses, trapping her in a trance of disbelief. Half of the shop was already lost to the chaotic swarm of flames. Rippling waves of fire engulfed the desiccated walls of the barn and dripped from the rafters overhead. Black smoke roiled and churned into the ceiling, swallowing the floating embers that got too close. Only when she spotted the source of the inferno did she simultaneously register and forget that she was standing in the middle of a burning building. Tannen threw a full oil lamp at her father's bed, whooping gleefully as another pillar of flame instantly sprouted amongst the smashed glass and blood stains on the stripped mattress.

Marty shifted toward her and pulled an orange candy bar out of his coat pocket. ""I am prepared to bribe you," – he shook the package at her – "with Reese's peanut butter cups." This hastened Emma's decision making, but he pulled them back when she reached for them. "No," he chided, returning them to his coat when she scoffed. "This is a movie snack. You can have these if we can pick you up at 11:15 at Burger King."

"We're time travelers, Em. Tonight, I'm your fiancé, and in three weeks, we have our first date."

They were supposed to be fixing the amplifier in the lab while she mentally composed her fugue essay. Walking Einstein on their way to Burger King to guilt Dave into giving them free milkshakes. Or applying new proximities to their seating arrangement on the couch as they half-watched another episode of I Dream of Jeannie, both of them too nervous and impatient to experiment with the positions of comfort that surpassed friendship.

Though it wouldn't come with a parade for another thirty-five years, Thanksgiving in New York flaunted charming swirls of leaves and brisk gusts that cut through chimney smoke to a heather gray sky. Marty never imagined wearing a set of tails for the occasion, but the way Ann enthusiastically modeled her bronzed marmalade gown tugged at his severed heartstrings and made the top hat feel necessary rather than silly.