The next morning Evan woke around five. The others were still asleep. Peering out the window of his bedroom, the full moon made the night’s fresh snowfall glisten. He went to the kitchen and was brewing a pot of coffee when he felt Murphy’s nose nudge the back of his leg. He turned to ruffle the fur on the top of her head and stroke her muzzle. She licked his hand and nudged back. He resolved to buy some dog biscuits, but not having anything like that, he went to the fridge and fetched some cheese. As he cut a small piece for her, he flashed on the first time Arthur Redwine had served him lunch in this house — and then the old man’s pleading for the contraband of his favorite Emmenthaler. Evan would buy some of that, too, just for Arthur.
So many expectations, responsibilities. There was
