Time's a funny thing, he thought to himself.
The processes that are endured over time,
the eb and flow of everyday life and that of life itself.
The scale of emotions that rise and fall with the slightest
influence, be that caused by an onset of overwhelming abstracts or tiny particulars.
He loves her and he's almost sure that he always has, but he doesn't submit
to the clichés and he's never been one to live by the norms, especially where she's concerned.
This method of time quietly astounds him and she can instantaneously
switch the intensity on and off, her faultless flicker never ceasing to bewilder him.
He's always caught up in time, but he can't remember at which point exactly in his
timeline that she laced herself into his web so entrenched that the notions of time
and Claudia Jean Cregg ran unquestionably paralleled in his mind from then onwards.
