As he neared the gas station, he slowed his pace, measured his breaths, attempted to clear his head. His mind chimed along with the door as he bustled inside and, plucking a Reese’s from a display stand near the door, attempted to make himself look busy. He gazed at labels and names without reading them as he moved up and down the aisles, never straying too far from the cash register. When the door chimed once more, he didn’t hesitate, and moved to the register straightaway.

“Just the Reese’s for you today, sir?” The attendant looked tired. More tired than usual.

“And a pack of Marlboros, please,” Michael said, his deep voice carrying to all the corners of the store. He glanced into the aisle behind, but she hadn’t looked up at his choice of cigarette – she never did. As he moved towards the exit, dragging his feet, he heard her approach the attendant and request some Marlboros of her own.