Slade was a man of routines.

Not because he enjoyed them.

Because routines kept people alive.

He was gone before sunrise.

Home long enough to shower, change equipment, answer a handful of calls, then disappear again before dinner.

Sometimes he’d be gone for days.

Sometimes weeks.

The house had adjusted around that rhythm years ago.

His wife had adjusted too.

The coffee was always left in the same place.

The lights by the front door were always left on.

His side of the bed was rarely disturbed because, more often than not, it stayed empty.

It wasn’t ideal.

It was simply their normal.

Then one Tuesday…

Slade didn’t leave.

He woke up.

Made coffee.

Read the newspaper.

Sat in the living room.

Around nine, he wandered into the kitchen looking for breakfast.

By eleven, he was reorganizing one of the storage closets.

At lunch, he was still there.

By mid-afternoon…

He’d somehow managed to repair a loose cabinet hinge, tighten every doorknob in the hallway, and silently judge the state of the garage.

His wife had absolutely no idea what to do with him.

Every room she entered…

He was already there.

She’d walk into the kitchen.

Slade was making another cup of coffee.

She’d head for the living room.

He was reading.

She’d go outside.

He was inspecting the fence like it had personally offended him.

By early evening, even the dog had become confused.

It kept looking at Slade…

Then at the front door…

As though waiting for him to finally leave.

He never did.

When dinner came around, Slade simply pulled out a chair and sat down.

Like this happened every day.

It didn’t.

The quiet familiarity of his constant absence had somehow been replaced by something far stranger.

His constant presence.

Only after the dishes had been cleared did his phone finally buzz.

Slade glanced at the screen.

One message.

Two words.

Contract cancelled.

He stared at it for a moment before slipping the phone back into his pocket.

So that was it.

No mission.

No target.

No flight waiting before dawn.

For the first time in longer than he cared to remember…

He had nowhere else he needed to be.

It felt…

Unusual.

Not unpleasant.

Just unfamiliar.

As the evening settled over the house, Slade leaned back in his chair and looked around at the home he’d spent years only passing through.

Maybe…

Staying for a while wasn’t the worst assignment he’d ever been given.