It is an open secret that Vince Gatton is a timeless being bearings witness to the passing of the ever-moving epochs of civilization.

Here, he's not even trying to hide it.

Past, present, and future all converge and diverge in the wake of a single indelible tragedy. Yet this is no time-travel tale: it's a simple domestic scene between mother and son, replete with cruelty-as-amusement, intergenerational music/fashion/tech/ideology, the parallels of rebellious youth in different eras, and rare affection.

The sociopolitical commentary is intimate as the wounds it recalls, but despite anguish there is beauty and somehow hope.

No one does poignant everyday dialogue like Gatton. What starts out as a typical day with typical bickering becomes a dawning as mother and son, through walking through mom's youth and the awareness of mortality, discover and see one another as human beings, moving beyond their assigned roles. In Gatton's two-handers, there is usually a mover, and there is a port in the storm (Protocols, Cassie Strickland) and the navigation to peace, or at least a mooring, is always a joy to experience. An in-your-bones piece, this.

Lee: vulnerable and painfully honest. Gabe: cocky and insightful beyond his years. The bonding between mother and son is so natural and touching. In ten minutes, Gatton reveals past, present, and perhaps portends the future. Wonderful.