Gina went into the office, a small, dumpy, trailor, set up on the outskirts of the dig. Paul, as usual, was hunched in front of the computer monitor, tapping away at the keys.
She took her bandana from around her neck and ran cool tap water over it, wiping a layer of dust from her face, rinsing it and replacing it around her neck. She went into the small bathroom, bumping her knees on the wall as she sat down. Finished, she looked into the hazy mirror, trying to comb her fingers through her naturally curly, dirty blonde hair and decided it was hopeless. The mexican sun and wind had defeated every effort to remain intact.
When she came out, Paul was still typing away relentlessly at the keyboard.
"Hey", she said, throwing her arms around him and kissing the back of his neck, "Are you coming out to help me dig today, or am I going to discover the next dinosaur all by myself?"
"Gina, you won't believe this e-mail someone sent me", he said, not even turning around.
"What kind of nut sent you an e-mail this time? No more mummys, ok? I've had enough egyptian curses to last me a lifetime."
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