This story takes place in 1985 and begins in the citadel in Iowa. It is nine years after Migina's story.
***
"puppy love"
With a grunt, Fallon kicked the record stand. The arm jumped, the needle skipped, and the syrupymusic died.
"Hey!" Laura jerked up from her magazine, chocolate eyes narrowed. "What the hell was that?"
Fallon readied to kick the stand again, but she leapt to her feet and pushed him back. "You'll scratch it!"
"Good. I'm sick of that song." He flopped on the couch and dropped his head back. When he spoke he could hear the soft southern drawl, more pronounced with his irritation. "I'm sick of all your music. Can't you get something new?"
Laura fussed with removing the record and carefully replacing it in its sleeve. "I don't like the new stuff. Music peaked-"
"In the fifties and early sixties," he finished for her. "We've been listening to it for twenty years. Isn't it time to give that crap a rest?"