“He was sitting in his chair in his office, wearing his leather coat, gloves, and outdoor shoes. He groaned aloud. His feet were blocks of ice. Rising out of the chair and standing took an effort; he felt like an old man. Peeling off his gloves he dropped them on the floor, then shrugged off the heavy coat. He sank back into the chair to fumble with the laces of his shoes. His socks were damp, his shoes lined and stained from the snow. Padding barefoot into the bathroom, Robert found a towel and... sat on the edge of the bath to dry his feet. Christ, he felt hungover. He felt exactly as if he’d spent a night drinking with Jimmy Moran. He tried arching his back and rotating his shoulders, but it didn’t help ease the tension. He wandered down to the kitchen and glanced up at the wall clock as he made the coffee. He pulled out the Peet’s French Roast and poured the beans into the coffee grinder. He grimaced at the noise. It was seven thirty, and he was surprised the kids hadn’t come down yet; he smiled, remembering Christmases past when they would be up at three and four in the morning.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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