POV: Silas Carter.
Silas was having trouble sleeping.
This was not, in itself, unusual. Having such a fast moving mind, the clutter built up pretty fast, and brains usually decided that midnight was the prime time to sort through all the information, necessary or unnecessary.
He was used to it at this point, replaying conversations, dissecting bits and pieces of information he needed to study, going through each and everything in such a fast thought to comprehension ratio that he woke up sweating at times.
What was weird about this particular day was the source of his trouble.
It wasn't the clutter, contrary to it, it was the very lack of activity in his usually loud brain that was throwing him off.
He let out a long exhale as he stared at the ceiling. The cold blue lights from the streets still bled through his worn curtains, and Silas could hear the racketing of the junkies outside, peppered with the occasional screaming of car horns in the distance.
