Avery hadn't written anything for himself in months. No UFO sightings, no ghost experiences, definitely no gods. His blog lay dormant, his followers drifted away. Instead, there was work.
Journalism was hard, but it was what Avery had wanted for a long time. The early mornings were punishing, as were the late nights trying to meet deadlines. He found it hard to interview people sometimes. And the travel (to the coffee shop, to get drinks for the more senior staff). But when he got the bit between his teeth on a good story, it was like he couldn't stop writing, and the words just flowed as the hours ticked by unnoticed. Sometimes he come across something that needed a prod, and a quick message to a certain contact would help him get the keys he needed to delve deeper. Lyra didn't need to know, of course. He knew what she'd say. And anyway, he knew he'd earned his place. Everyone else had contacts and networks, his just included an immortal sun god. No big deal.
Often, his head was somewhere else in the evenings with Lyra was home. He found it difficult to stop. It was nice watching TV or a movie together though. On Wednesdays Lyra was out and he secretly relished having the space to himself, even if she was an absolute bear in the mornings. Sometimes she got up when he did and sat blinking sleepily as he made his coffee. Less now than she used to.
He could hear the hail on the windows, but he was focused on the computer screen, not on the sounds of Lyra returning home. The office was on a skeleton staff for the week between Christmas and New Years, and as luck would have it, Avery had been allowed some time off. "You've earned it, kid," his editor had said with a wink. So he was making the most of it by hammering his mouse and playing an old space game on his computer, allowing himself to stay up late for once. "Ah fuck," he muttered as his little space craft exploded into pixels.