“Your new secondary insurance cleared through the state board this morning,” she said.

“Is the inhaler covered?” I asked.

“Fully covered,” Clara said.

“The pharmacy courier dropped two full canisters on your front mat twenty minutes ago, at no cost to you.”

“Thank you, Clara,” I said.

“I’ll go pick them up.”

I opened the front door, picked up the small white paper bag from the mat, and set it beside my tea tin.

By five thirty, the streetlights were coming on along High Street, throwing long amber lines across the wet concrete below.