There is only one solution to this occasional condition, and that is exercise. But as I decided that what I really needed was a pleasant two- or three-mile jog, I remembered again that I had misplaced my running shoes. They were not in their usual spot by the door, and they were not in my car. This was Miami, so it was possible that someone had broken into my apartment and stolen them; they were, after all, very nice New Balance shoes. But I thought it more likely that I had left them over at Rita’s. For me, to decide is to act. I toddled down to my car and drove over to Rita’s house.

The rain was long gone—it seldom lasts even an hour—and the streets were already dry and filled with the usual cheerfully homicidal crowd. My people. The maroon Taurus showed up behind me at Sunset, and stayed with me all the way. It was nice to see Doakes back on the job. I had felt just a little bit neglected. Once again he parked across the street as I knocked on the door. He had just turned off the engine when Rita opened the door. Well, she said. What a surprise! She lifted her face for a kiss.

I gave her one, putting a little extra English on it to entertain Sergeant Doakes. There’s no easy way to say this, I said, but I’ve come for my running shoes.

Rita smiled. Actually, I just put mine on. Care to get sweaty together? And she held the door wide for me.

That’s the best invitation I’ve had all day, I said.

I found my shoes in her garage beside the washing machine, along with a pair of shorts and a sleeveless sweatshirt, laundered and ready to go. I went into the bathroom and changed clothes, leaving my work clothes folded neatly on the toilet seat. In just a few minutes Rita and I were trotting up the block together. I waved to Sergeant Doakes as we went by. We ran down the street, turned right for a few blocks, and then around the perimeter of the nearby park. We had run this route together before, had even measured it out at just under three miles, and we were used to each other’s pace. And so about half an hour later, sweaty and once again willing to face the challenges of another evening of life on Planet Earth, we stood at the front door of Rita’s house.

If you don’t mind, I’ll take the first shower, she said. That way I can start dinner while you clean up.

Absolutely, I said. I’ll just sit out here and drip.