The Moment

 

"Actually, a moment is a specific amount of time." Martin Pringle looked around at the seated members of the library book group. He could see they were on tenterhooks, waiting for him to clarify further. "A moment is, in fact, three minutes."

Feeling smug, Martin settled back onto the hard plastic library chair. He was confident that his little nuggets of wisdom were always well-received during the meetings. He looked around the group, hearing murmurs he took as signs of appreciation.

 "Actually, it's not."

 Martin looked aghast at young Patrick Salt, who had contradicted him once again.

 "Why, of course, it is. You must recognise that with age and experience comes knowledge," Martin retorted. He could feel his face starting to flush; something about Patrick ignited a deep-seated anger within him. Patrick's constant challenges to Martin's intellect had infuriated him since Patrick joined the group six months previously.

Martin's wife, Marjorie, sensed his growing irritation. She grasped his hand and gave him a low, whispered warning. "Martin..."

"It's not." Patrick insisted, reclining slightly in his chair, one chalky white trainer bouncing against the other on the brown and grey patterned carpet. "It's not three minutes."

 "And what makes you so sure, young man?" Martin arched his eyebrows at Patrick.

 "Google." Patrick waved his smartphone between his forefinger and thumb. "I googled it. It's not three minutes."

 "But I'm certain..."Martin began.

 "According to Google, a moment is no longer than ninety seconds." Patrick read from his phone and then showed it to Mable, the book group secretary beside him. She changed her glasses from seeing to reading glasses before she could concur.

 "Ah, well..." Martin began. He had found the loophole in Patrick's argument. "As one swallow does not make a summer, one website does not make something a fact."

 "And it also says so on Wikipedia, BBC News, Science Today, and an article from the Sunday Times..." Patrick looked up at Martin, who was spluttering. "Shall I go on?"

 "No, you've said more than enough," Martin said, taking deep breaths to calm his rising blood pressure. "Let's get back to talking about the book, shall we? H.E. Bates, *A Moment in Time*. Back to you, Marjorie."

 Marjorie flicked through notes. "I can't remember the point I was making before I was interrupted." She glared at Martin.

 Oblivious to his wife's disdain, Martin picked up his notebook. A collective sigh echoed around the circle.

"Don't worry, dear; I'm sure I have something to say." Martin got to his feet, ready to launch into his next monologue. "I have some fascinating observations on this chapter. Let me find the page. It will only take me a moment."

Patrick sat up straight and leaned into the group. With a mischievous smirk, he looked Martin in the eyes and asked, "Yes, but how long is that, Martin?"