The moment when TIME plays "Statue"...

He was at the verge of discovering something. His initial period of formulating the thought process, his primeval years of research and his dogged perseverance were finally about to culminate at a point beyond which there was no looking back. He will have written an equation and modeled a system that could break the time-space continuum. Albert Einstein’s dream was about to blossom into reality.

There was a knock on the door, a familiar voice, a voice that he had not heard for years, a face that he had been yearning to see all through his childhood. There she was standing in his room with a quizzical glance and sad stare as if telling him that he dint classify under her category of "normal" people. She had always taunted him on being a nerd drowned by books. He had never been able to have a conversation with her that lasted for more than 2 minutes. But even after all these years he was still enthralled by her sight and charmed by her child like voice. It was a magic that had never failed to bewitch him.

"Everything happens in accordance to some rule or a logical constraint" was the concept he truly believed in. Being a scientist himself, he had always searched for reasons, for answers to every problem, for action underlined by a thought process that was provoked by pure logic. But she defied everything. To him she was a mystery that he couldn't fathom and he hated to let it be that way. If he were to tell her that he was about to formulate an equation that could create a time machine with which we can travel to the past, she would have merely tilted her head and said "Why would anyone want to do that?” All that mattered to her was the present, this moment and nothing else.

But today her sadness seemed to tell him something more. With a dolorous smile that marked her face as she spoke, she said "the doctor said what he suspected was indeed true. I guess I won’t be here long enough to see you win a Nobel Prize..."

He dropped his pen, as if never to pick it up again. He spent his every waking moment from then on in her company. He took her to places where they had spent most of their time as kids, he made her laugh so hard that she had tears in her eyes, he made sure she never had to regret the sickness that had come over her.

An year later

He had stopped all his research on finding a way to get around time. It dint matter to him anymore. He had finally understood what she meant by living a life rather than being forever on a quest for answers. What is time? What is a second, a minute, an hour? Why do we quantify life? Those questions never again rang in his brain...