It was only a few moments later that a van emblazoned with the logo of a local television station pulled up and parked on the opposite side of the street. As usual, I wasn’t going to be immune from the jaundiced spotlight of the media either.

“Damn TV people,” the cop muttered and then offered, “We can go out back or sit in the car if you want.”

“That’s okay,” I replied with a slight shake of my head. “It’s not the first time they’ve pointed their cameras at me, and I doubt it will be the last.”

“Guess the neighbors are having a field day,” he grunted.

“Yeah, probably,” I agreed. “You’d think they’d be used to it by now.”

I didn’t expand on the history of flashing lights and news vans that had been positioned in front of my house over the years, and he didn’t ask. He probably already knew all about it anyway. In fact, it was entirely possible he had been one of the many cops to have graced my doorstep in the past. After a quiet moment I pulled the cigarette from my mouth and inspected the still pristine paper and tobacco on its end.

“Got a light?” I asked before tucking it back between my lips.

He dug in his pocket then withdrew a disposable lighter and handed it to me. I gave it a quick flick with my thumb and touched the flame to the business end of the smoke then handed the stubby metal and plastic device back to him.

As we stood on the porch, and I took the first drag on the nicotine and menthol laden tobacco, I simply yielded to the idea that I was once again re-adding an old vice to my list.

If circumstances were different, given my earlier jibe, I suspect Helen would have found it thoroughly amusing.