Whenever he let his thoughts wander, for some reason they always came back sooner or later to the case notes. It usually happened at night.
He lay quite still in his bed and looked up at the ceiling, where a fly was moving. He had never been much good at darkness and rest. It was as though his defenses were stripped away the moment the sun disappeared and the fatigue and darkness crept up to enfold him. Defenselessness was something at odds with his entire nature. A large part of his life had revolved around being on his guard, being prepared. Readiness demanded wakefulness.
He registered that it had been a long time since he had been...