Page 32 of The Spire


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The plates are geologically fluid. Things move, dude. You need to deal with it. You know what else is moving? The moon. It's about two inches farther away each year.

This husband of mine has quite the sense of humor. Don't you know not to poke the academics where they hurt? It makes us less interested in video chatting. Also, I keep forgetting to call about getting the internet turned on…

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To: Erin Walsh

From: Nick Acevedo

Date: June 18

Subject: WHAT?

I'm calling the University of Texas at Austin right now and requesting a refund. I don't know how I earned a degree from the College of Natural Sciences without hearing anything about Australia moving or the moon floating away.

I'll upgrade your data plan, Skip. Let me text you. Anything, please.

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To: Nick Acevedo

From: Erin Walsh

Date: June 21

Subject: how do you have time to text?

I recognize that this is yet another thing we've failed to address in any way, but Angus left me with more than enough blood money to fund my own data upgrades. I don't need a dime from you or anyone else. I won't, ever. But aside from the financial logistics, I never have my phone with me inside the lab or when I'm out doing fieldwork, and even if I did, I wouldn't spend all day texting. Not trying to pull a Shannon here, but I'm really fucking busy.

(also: I'm concerned that the brain surgeon in this relationship, the one trying to return his diploma, has plenty of time to text. I pray that your scrub nurses aren't taking dictation. Do they write your emails too?)

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To: Erin Walsh

From: Nick Acevedo

Date: June 22

Subject: No dictation here

The nursing staff is outstanding, and they all have far better things to do than send my texts or write emails. This is all me, in the downtime between surgeries or when I'm waiting for imaging studies. Sometimes it's just when I'm wishing you were in bed with me. Like right now.

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To: Nick Acevedo

From: Erin Walsh

Date: June 23

Subject: That time

It's been a little more than three weeks. Should I expect any long, drunk, semi-intelligible emails in the spirit of Matt from you?

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To: Erin Walsh