The gentle pitter patter of rain became mere background noise to the sleeping writer. He has written many books in his life by far and was in the midst of writing one about his life. Curtains are pulled to the side, giving a clear view to the world outside. Arms were crossed beneath his head as a makeshift pillow. His book left opened, untouched with a quill that rested on the left page. Such a cozy atmosphere, yet a knock from the door did little to wake him from his rest.