Tick. Tick. Tick.

The clock is ticking. Ever and always. Seconds turn into minutes, which turn into hours, days, weeks, months and years. The older one gets, the quicker time seems to fly by, passing in a blur. So where lies its value?

A wink of dark blue eyes, and another moment is gone. The long arm of the clock has moved one, and so has Yuka. The weather outside is nice, the afternoon is off, the evening promising. There's no time to sulk or brood by herself. There's no use to cry over things that are inevitable.

The value of time lies in how it's spend and what comes of it, after all. And for Yuka... It's running out faster than for others.