[ WP ] When you reach the age of 25 , you will respawn back to 25 anytime you die . When you reach age 50 , you no longer respawn if you die .

**Everything was as it had been for the last century. ** 
 
 A half full bottle of prescription pills rested on the ground where it had been left to fall. A half empty glass of whisky sat on an end table that rested next to a worn leather chair that had seen the poor posture of a broken man for longer than either the chair or the man should have existed. His pipe burned unattended as his chest warmed to the effects of a Mr. Jack Daniels, and the alcohol took its stead. 
 
 The dust collected on the tops of bookshelves pregnant with the works he had grown attached to. The inumerable unread and half read stories. The 10 or so series he had fallen in love with as a child. The 2 failed publications of his own. The various photo albums, made inferior by the technology of the day... but those towers were his, and in them was a certain solace. 
 
 He collected his thoughts, and once again, for the 4th time that month, worked his way towards one of the oldest tomes. One dusty, but oddly clean in the center of it's binding, the far right of it's front cover, and on the edge of each page. This particular photo album held memories that even he had seemed to have lost in the years. Among its plastic covered pages were letters whose contexts could only be assumed at that point. The detachment provided an only too certain peace, and reminded him that Time took and never gave back. Time was all anyone had, and all he wished he could get rid of. 
 
 One letter from the coroner was particularly haunting. The once pure white envelope yellowed with age. The edges of which had not seen even the smallest of frays. Unopened, it whispered a reminder to him. 
 
 It had been about 3'resets' since he had seen her. It had been 73 years or so, since he had held her hand. It had been 7 or so decades since their last fight. 26,663 days since they had made up and chatted till the morning. 639,912 hours since he had wept over her still body, when he awoke to find that her reset had failed due to complications. 
 
 The millions of minutes... the even more numerous seconds... It all mattered little when time had lost his meaning. 
 
 It had only been moments, though, since the ducts of his eyes had broken. It had only been moments since the drops parted the accumulated dust on the pages of the bound volume of memories he held in his hands. Only moments since he once again, for the 4th time that month, realized it was n't getting better. 
 
 His vision blurred... 
 
 
 He awoke in a daze. His surroundings foreign yet familiar. 
 
 He had failed her once again in a moment of weakness. For the 3rd time he had failed to wait out the 25 years. 
 
 He wept as he was escorted back to his home. 
 
 There, the dust collected on the tops of bookshelves pregnant with the works only one of which he had concern for. 
 
 Everything was as it had been for the last century. 

