I felt transposed to the past, as I heard my name being called. The voice was the same, the tone same, just the time had changed. Time hadn't changed the voice, nor had it changed my memories. Somehow just it being uttered had transposed me into the past, making me realize, how much I valued the voice, and somewhere the dormant time frozen in the icicles, broke with a sound, that woke me up, just to realise, it was a dream, a wakeup call, to tell me, time will always call its shots.
