I looked around, and realized I was stalling. Really, this shouldn’t be that difficult. People aged. People grew up, had children, grew old. Died. Julia’s death still haunted me. Now I was visiting Justin, on his seventy-fifth. I could remember the first time I saw him, as clear as the day it happened—two years old, sitting on his mother’s lap in front of the camera. Space Cadet Justin, laughing in delight at the pretty pictures.