The streets were full, yet the streets were empty. Mark's home was the same as he left it, but Mark himself was a different person. The fourteen-year-old Mark still existed, but that kid was somewhere far beneath the surface. He knew his neighbors, he knew his old classmates, but they seemed so distant. It left a knot in his stomach. No, he couldn't visit the past on this trip. Los Angeles turned into a strange place. Or was it Mark himself who was the stranger?

  ***       "Mark, your father wants to speak with you." His mother then shut the door. She was the same person that he vividly remembered. Pulled-back hair, red lipstick, knee-length skirt, and plastic smile. It was the second time she spoke this message.       The meeting was inevitable, of course. There had to be an underlying reason for this visit, "We missed you" just wasn't strong enough. The meeting was inevitable, but Mark had just enough time to stall away. He looked around at his room, his past fortress. Pictures of friends and posters--eyes staring back at his. Why did they all seem so perfect, so plastic? Jenni would know what to say to me...she always knows what to say.       The door creaked open once more. "Mark, come down now." He followed her down the stairs.   ***       "Mark, my son. How are you? Why, it's been so long." Mark's dad had his campaign voice in perfect condition.       "Yes. It has been a long time." And whose fault was that?       "I take it things are going well in Korea? I'm so glad you were able to adjust to an independent lifestyle so quickly." He rambled on in small talk.       "Father, I know there is a reason why you brought me back home. Please just tell me," Mark said stiffly. His father's expression changed seriously, thoughtfully.       "Son, you've spent