Cesar doesn't even look up as the light goes off, though he opens his eyes to a more comfortable width. There's light enough from the livingroom, as far as he's concerned, and it gives his eyes a more gentle time to adjust.

Something happened the night before, and he remembers a general conclusion that it was exhausting and good. More details float around haphazardly, but he needs at least a coffee and some advil before he's ready to sort them out. He reaches for the nearby coffee can, and glances down at the notebook it bumps.

Time stops. His heart stops, sounds temporarily cease, and the world runs slow while neurons fire in a frantic repeating loop. He puts the coffee can down and picks the notebook up, unable to look at anything else.

L found it. He must know what it means.

Is everything over?