In the dim living room, David was sitting on the couch, a scowl on his face and crossed arms over his chest, his back against the couch as he started at the files of the case on the coffee table. A beer, scattered papers and articles, an empty mug of coffee, all that on the table in a messy and untidy way, sign of his frustration.

The only sounds that could be heard are the raindrops scattered on the window and his breathing. It was late, around 3am and he was still working.

He had his eyes glued on the papers in front of him until he heard some sounds coming from upstairs in the bedroom. He ignored them, knowing that it’s just his wife and continued focused on the case until he heard footsteps going downstairs to his direction.

He turned his head towards the stairs and saw his wife approaching him and then looked back at the papers.

”You should be sleeping.”

He murmured in an irritated and frustrated voice -not at her but at his lack of progress in the case-, eyes glued on the papers.