“How much longer?”
Kazuo looked over at his son and replied, “We’re about halfway, so another hour or so.” Shaking his head he added, “When I was your age – depending on layovers – it could take your grandparents and I over a day to fly to Japan to visit the relatives. Now it takes longer to drive to the spaceport than to hop over the pacific.”
His son had already tuned him out and was re-immersed in the latest game.
Kazuo shook his head again and looked out the window at the brilliant, curved blue of Earth and the blackness of space.