Tokusatsu musebox

I thought he'd meant structurally, or organizationally, or even something like 'the carpet used to be blue and now it's red'. But I realize at the crossing of his arms, the clearing of his throat, that he's seeing changes much less obvious than that. The changes of time passing.

I swallow nervously, suddenly self-conscious that I managed to poke at that sort of sensitive subject. "I'm sorry," I manage to stammer out, fingers curling a bit more tightly around the edges of my present from him. "I didn't mean to bring up anything, um, unnecessary."