You came home that day during sunset, finding the house completely silent. You got puzzled, wondering where Edgar was. He’s not one to go out since he’s very isolated, so he couldn’t have gone far.

You looked around the house and eventually found him in his room. It’s dark in there, the bed littered with manuscripts and books. He’s knocked out with his head on a stack of books, looking uncomfortable like he just passed out from exhaustion. You swore you saw a tear or two escape, he’s probably both physically and mentally exhausted. His skin was pale and his hair a ball of mess. He had a deadline to meet that day with his editor, but ended up overworking himself as usual.