"Well? How are you?"
"Good. Real good."
"Ariadne's a little out of sorts."
"She'll get used to it. It's not easy, just stopping cold."
"Cold?"
"Well. In one go. But the kids—the kids are distant."
"They've been distant from you for quite a long time."
"Oh, stop. I just expected them to be more excited."
"Cobb, how old are you?"
He stops because that's the last question he'd expect Miles to ask. He couldn't know. Could he? Ariadne wouldn't...
"All right, all right, we'll just be charitable and go with twenty-nine, shall we?"
No, he doesn't. He's thinking about the age on his driver's license. "No," he blushes. "I'm thirty-six."
"Thirty-six. Very good. Okay, now I'm no math genius, but you know how long you've been abroad—"
"Abroad? You make it sound like I was on vacation."
"—you can do the math, what fraction of your life it represents."
"What?"
"Do the math. What fraction of your life it is. Less than ten."
"Okay. But what does that have to do with—"
"Now redo the calculation for Phillipa and James."
He raises his eyebrows.
"When you're my age, you'll understand. Give them time."
But he's right. Maybe it's only the old who are wide awake. Because it only took the top a moment to fall over, that day. Even if seeing his children's eyes, seeing through his children's eyes, it seemed to take a lifetime too long.