Six months later, at Brentwick Capital International Airport in, I stepped out of the international arrivals gate, and a handful of hospital staff waved at me.
"Dean Harris!"
"Dean Harris, over here!"
I nodded to them and strode quickly over.
The department director stepped forward enthusiastically and hefted my rolling suitcase out of my hand.
"Welcome home, Dean Harris!" he said. "The wrap-up meeting for the Asteria aid project is all locked in and ready to go."
I smiled at him. "Thank you. Let's head straight to the hospital," I said.
The car merged onto the airport expressway. Brentwick's sky was a rare, vivid, cloudless blue.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. My assistant sent over my daily schedule, with an extra note tagged on the end.
Assistant: Dean Harris, we've made progres
