How Green Becomes Wood

Alec grinned. "Have you ever read any of those old personal ads from like cowboy times? '20 years old, owns own land, has all teeth, looking for an independent woman to cook for me?' I know they are so outdated, but I find them kind of cute sometimes because some dudes are just so honest and laying it all out there."
 
"You should totally look them up. They are great. I think independent women of that era often liked the homesteader type because the guys would go out and hunt and farm and whatever, and the women could do whatever the heck they wanted without a guy underfoot," Alec mused. "I could be wrong, of course. I remember one read something like... 'Would like the hearthstone of her heart swept, and the cobwebs brushed away; matrimony.'"
 
"Entirely likely, as long as all of the digital stuff hasn't crashed and burned and destroyed it all. Hopefully, there's some archeologist or anthropologist or something printing out some of them for record's sake," Alec grinned.
 
"If Archaeologists are making copies of it now, it may be a privacy violation, but I bet there will be some future people who will be able to uncode internet stuff, even if we've moved onto something entirely new," Sloan shrugged, "I don't know anything about it though. Your mom might."
 
Alec insisted on paying for his half and grinned. "Then I guess I'll have to invite her to go out with me and Becky to get our nails done without you." He winked at her. "Or we could all go together sometime."
 
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