� � � � � He became instantly aloof, a routine I know so well since I can't seem to shake doing it myself. His eyes didn't dart around, but they seemed to perfectly, algorithmically, avoid my eyes just enough to let me get the message.
� � � � � "I always thought you might end up back here...home. Don't you want to? Didn't you used to think you'ould? You don't think you will?" He fired them all off like they were one sentence.
� � � � � I sighed and looked straight at him. I guess he figured he'd gotten the point across. Either that, or my sigh sent him a message that maybe I was already becoming weary of the conversation.
� � � � � "No, Dad. I don't."
� � � � � And with that, like another switch, the perfectly scientific distance returned to his eyes. It became more of a gaze and looked past me, like my face had just become a stereogram, like he was searching for the hidden picture.
� � � � � "Oh..." he trailed up with his voice in a soft tone - one that let me know that I had hurt him somehow, but "hey, it's okay, I understand." Again, another technique I know too well. Rather than actually address an issue upfront, especially an unpleasant one - disappointment, anger, etc. - I've heard the same notes in my own throat giving similar one or two word responses.