before the morning light

Seriously, Jules had never woken up for anything this early in his life. They were making dough at 3:30 in the morning, down in Oliver's kitchen.

But Jules didn't complain. He got up and followed instructions. Of course, Oliver had to tell him what to do every morning.

"You know what to do." Oliver squinted hard while the dough machine whirled.

"But its way early," Jules tried to smile even if he were in a sweat, already. "I might mess up." Jules supposed.

He was never very good in school. Of course, he didn't try, either. Didn't know why it troubled him now. He was in a sweat, and it felt as if he were hiding out, and yet he hadn't done a bank job or any other awful thing. Except, he was the brunt of anyone's joke in the village.

It was too soon to go back. Maybe he'd never go back. What was there to go back too? His mum thought he was in a gang.

He sighed as he went to drink more coffee. He could hardly stand it. He thought for a moment he might be crying, but it was just sweat pouring down his face. Finally, he went out and take a break. Of course, he didn't have many smokes. But he needed some nicotine to get through this. He went out back and smoked a few puffs off his insignificant cigarette. He saved what he could for another break. He made these cigarettes last. It was too hard to go cold turkey. After all, no sex, no booze. The withdrawal was beyond misery.

But if the kid had been his, he'd probably messed that up, somehow. It was good to get away from what everyone expected of him at home. Always the worst. He choked a laugh then as he came back in to start the process of getting all the scones ready for the oven.