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Time in a Bottle

"Time in a bottle?" questioned Max. "You mean Jim Croce was right?"

Goner let out a chuckle and he turned to face Mags. She stood by the window looking out, not turning to face the lads. Goner was sitting down the couch, his right foot propped up on his left knee, with a cup of coffee in his hands. At the moment he was drinking French Vanilla, because it was a flavour that he had recently discovered.

"Yes," she replied, still looking out the window and watching the nightlife unfold before her. "He is indeed a prophet."

"And here I thought he was singing about drinking," Goner said.

Max got up from the chair and moved towards Maggie; he grabbed a cup from the tray that he and Goner had brought in with them. He handed one to Maggie, she accepted. She drank her coffee black.

"It's an interesting concept, isn't it," Max said. He placed a hand on her shoulder.

Maggie was about to say something but Angst stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped in towel. She strolled past Goner.

"What's going on?" Angst asked.

"Maggie was just telling us about keeping time bottled up," Goner quipped; he really wasn't sure if Maggie was serious.

Max sipped his coffee and put it down on the dresser. "So what exactly are you getting at?"

Maggie stared out the window; a tear rolled down her cheek like a glacier moving across the earth.