He needed a cup of coffee. A little java and he’d feel ready enough to face the day-getting Jonah off to school, keeping rein on the locals who flouted the law, posting eviction notices throughout the county, as well as handling whatever else inevitably cropped up, like meeting with Jonah’s teacher later in the afternoon. And that was just for starters. The evenings, if anything, seemed even busier. There was always so much to do, simply to keep the household running smoothly: paying the bills, shopping, cleaning, repairing things around the house. Even in those rare moments when Miles found himself with a little free time on his hands, he felt as if he had to take advantage of it right away or he’d lose the opportunity. Quick, find something to read. Hurry up, there’s only a few minutes to relax. Close your eyes, in a little while there won’t be any time. It was enough to wear anyone down for a while, but what could he do about it?

He really needed the coffee. The nicotine wasn’t cutting it anymore, and he thought about throwing the cigarettes out, but then it didn’t matter whether he did or not. In his mind, he didn’t really smoke. Sure, he had a few cigarettes during the course of the day, but that wasn’t real smoking. It wasn’t as though he burned through a pack a day, and it wasn’t as if he’d been doing it his whole life, either; he’d started after Missy had died, and he could stop anytime he wanted. But why bother? Hell, his lungs were in good shape-just last week, he’d had to run after a shoplifter and had no trouble catching the kid. Asmoker couldn’t do that.

Then again, it hadn’t been as easy as it was when he’d been twenty-two.