Upon seeing him, Paul was struck immediately by the idea that his father had aged since they had last seen each other. Had it been that long? It had only been seven months, but it seemed much longer. So much had happened; there was so much to talk about. Paul and his father hugged. They didn’t say much while waiting for Paul’s duffel to arrive; a comfortable silence surrounded the two. Paul was glad to be home, and his father was happy he was there. Paul figured conversation would wait until they were in the ground-car. So much here in the terminal was familiar, but there seemed to be a distance now, a mental distance, that existed between Old Paul and New Paul. He knew the difference he felt was all bullshit, pure conditioning. It was the stuff of cheap novels. However, he felt the feeling nonetheless. And he felt the difference strongly now, standing and waiting on his bag with his father. Listening to the whir of the luggage carousel, standing there in his browns, Paul caught the appraisal his father was giving him, the looks of the people in the shuttle field.
