“Got kids, Officer? This won’t be the first time I’ve had to drag my daughter to the office. Good news is, she can sleep through anything.”

Minute Jason said those words, he wished he could call them back. ‘Course, it was too late, as he observed in the officer’s responding smirk. “Good to know,” the officer said, and proceeded to make a very long entry into his logbook.

Jason gave up, returning to the station wagon and firing it to life. As he drove down the street, he didn’t see the officer pulling out behind him. But then, around six blocks later, a police cruiser suddenly nosed out from a side street. His next handler, he supposed, and gave a silent salute to Boston’s finest.

The offices of the Boston Daily were like any other news media, which was to say it was a crazy, hectic bull pen of activity during the day, and still warranted a few dedicated souls even late at night. Stories were written, copy was edited, and pages were laid out even in the odd hours of the morning, perhaps even more so, because it was only after midnight that the place grew quiet enough for anyone to think.

Jason entered the building with a dozing child cradled against his chest, the duffel bag slung over his shoulder and now effectively covered by Ree’s giant fleecy bear blanket. He looked like a man carrying a heavy load, but then, one glance at the fairly large four-year-old collapsed like dead weight in his arms, and no one thought to question it. He swiped his reporter’s ID across the various door pads, and made his way into the inner sanctum.

Most of the reporters worked both at home and in the office, so guys like Jason shared space with more than one person, in a system called “hoteling.” Basically, there were desks and computers everywhere. You found an available space and used it. Tonight was no exception.

Jason took refuge in a corner cubicle, kicking the dark green duffel bag under the desk, while sliding Ree onto the floor and making a little nest for her with her blankie and her bunny. She was awake now, staring at him somberly.

“It’s okay,” he whispered to her. “Daddy’s just gotta do a little work, then we’ll go home.”

“Where’s Mommy?” Ree asked. “I want Mommy.”

“Go to sleep, honey. We’ll be home shortly.” Ree obediently closed her eyes, drifting back into slumber.

Jason watched her for a moment longer. The smudge of her dark lashes against her pale cheeks. The purple stain of exhaustion rimming her closed eyelids. She looked small to him. Delicate. An impossible burden that was also the most important purpose of his life.