The light was dimmed. The expensive furnishing of his office seemed less splendid than day time. But it wasn't important.

Not anything in his firm could remind him about that particular something from the previous night. Not could the mountains of documents on his desk. Nor did the certificate that read "Defender of the Truth", which was signed by the mayor. Not even the left over lamb chop sitting in the plate on his desk could give him a hint.

But at least the lamb chop would do a good job in satisfying his appetites. The dimmed light unjustly diminished the tempting redness on the lamb. But the smell he inhaled was as appetizing as blood to a starving mosquito. He cut off a large portion and sank in his teeth. The texture of the meat was faultlessly tendered. The creamy sauce was delectable to every taste bud. The sweet juice exuded from the center of the meat bathed every inches of his tongue in heavenly deliciousness.

Nevertheless, it wasn't just the taste. It was the feeling that he was chewing on something pristine, something innocently clean that gave him the exulting satisfaction of conquering. And yes, it was definitely scrumptious. It was succulent. It was yummy. It was almost perfect except for the fact that he couldn't recall where he got the lamb chop. It was from something he did last night. He had a premonition that it would be something significant, something ominous.

The wall clock stroked ten to midnight. Time to sleep. Everyone had left the firm. Even his secretary, who managed everything for him to the most tiresome details, his appointments, his clients, his lovers and his phone bills. Even his practicing lawyers who were the only intelligent species in this world that could endure his overloaded work orders. They had all gone home to sleep. Everyone, everything, but him. It was harder and harder for him to fall asleep recently. But he couldn't understand why.