Hitting ‘Send’ on the last email of the evening, he closed the remaining programs and turned off the monitor. Pushing the chair back from the desk, the squeak of the felt pads against the oak floorboards reminded him that he had been meaning to replace the pads for longer now than was decent.

The house was quiet. He snapped off the kitchen and great room lights, leaving only the warm amber glow from the fireplace. The colour was darker than it should have been. The sides of the front glass were covered with creosote and other noxious products of combustion, and had been like that for weeks. It was something else that needed to be done. What was one more where there were so many already?

He had long since fallen out of the habit of reading a chapter of text daily, a habit dearly missed. He thought briefly that this would be a good night, but the other computer, the one that could not be connected to the office network, beckoned. He sat and began to write, Hitting ‘Send’ on the last email of …