"This is life, calling collect, saying 'Hi, I'm short. Appreciate me"
Tony had spoken the truth—life was short. However, Tim found that this was not the burden that weighed their shoulders at the sight of the plane crash. After all, every case showed them life was short. The difference between the two was the victim. In other cases, Tim had always thought the victim would have some idea of why it was happening, be it a serial killer or a crime of passion. In the plane crash, it was simple chance. The quick and unsuspected cut of the scissors through threads was the cause of morbidity left in them. With brevity almost taunting, life was stripped away. A single staccato note—it seemed that was all they had. The fear was that it could be all he had too.
So Tim would have to disagree with Tony. It was not Life that was speaking, but Death reminding them, "I come softly on winged feet."