“Did you ever wonder why, in all this heat, sand doesn’t melt?”

Greg paused sweeping the possible bones in front of him and looked back at his grad student. That’s how he thought of her. ‘His’ grad student. It made him laugh, like he was doing now. “Wait, what?”

The girl (what was her name? Elliot.) was crouched on her heels and she was letting a thin stream of sand fall from her closed fist. “The sand,” she repeated. “Why doesn’t it melt?”

Greg turned back to the object he was dusting off and continued to chuckle. “What’s your major again?”

The soft whisper of falling grains ceased. “Earth science.”

Greg stopped mid-laugh and sweep. “Seriously?” He turned back to look at the dark-skinned student. “Elliot, are you joking?”

Elliot dusted off her palms and looked up at Greg, genuine confusion on her face. “No, why?”

Shaking his head, Greg turned back to the dig site and sighed. “I guess it means I’ll be making a call when we get back.”

“Why?”

Sigh. “Don’t worry about it.”

“’Kay.”