Today’s count: 550
He needed a distraction. He looked around for something to read, but if she had any books, they were apparently still packed in one of the boxes stacked at the other end of the room, and he wasn’t about to dig through them without permission. With a sigh, he hauled himself out of the chair, its cushions so deep they threatened to swallow him. He checked to make sure the baby was still breathing freely, then went out to the porch, leaving the door open behind him so he could hear if Noah ran into trouble.
As he leaned against a post and stared out at the night, his fingers itched to hold a cigarette. It had been a lifetime since he’d last smoked one. The cravings had mostly died along with his humanity. But it had been a comforting habit, even moreso in a time when nobody knew it could be a deadly one, and sometimes he still missed it.