Resuming writing had presented Manfred with another annoyance; the birds bloody feathers kept inexplicably working their way into his descriptive language. It was...reminiscent of something, though he couldn't bring himself to say what. He shook his head dismissively; such invasive thoughts were improper and imperfect, something he certainly was not. No. Enough of this foolishness. He would not tolerate such behavior in his children, so why was it so hard to reflect the same standard on himself?
It was the writing. The accursed need for it to be childish, that's all. There was no flaw of his own here, it was simply that an unorthodox use of his time was resulting in a psychological abnormality. That could be expected, in fact, it was completely predictable.
He stood from the desk; a jolt of pain stabbed through his shoulder, and he winced. Every now and again that old injury would resurface to haunt him, but now it seemed unnervingly timely. He could recall too well the smell of blood mingling with gunpowder, just like it was yesterday-
"Enough!" He shouted at such a volume that he startled himself, "I will not be made a mockery of by my own mind!" He turned from the table and stormed out of the room. Moments later, he remembered that storming out of a room only really works if you are having an argument with an actual person, not your own thoughts. He sighed; it was probably time to take a break anyway, he had spent way more time than was strictly necessary on this foolishness. There was much to be done; he had to be in court tomorrow, if he wasn't in police custody of course, and he had not completed the meticulous preparation that was traditional, ritual even. That wasn't to say he was unprepared, certainly not, he would never allow that. Every witness had been fixed, and the evidence by all means should be in order, but yet he liked to be certain, there was no need for trials to be anything but a show, the case should be decided before he even set foot through the courtroom door.
Everything was where it should be, because of course it was. Not a feature of the files on the desk were out of place, the evidence was lined, like always, in chronological order, specifically to be presented at the ideal time to destroy any fleeting hopes of the defense. No holes. No flaws. There never were, he did not make mistakes, but yet-
Something was definitely wrong here.
What was it?
No matter, whatever it was was certainly of no consequence, the attorney he was going to face was an amateur with barely four cases under her belt, it was going to be a massacre, the fact that she even took the case in the first place was testament to her foolishness after all.
A sharp knocking on the door echoed through the room, and a loud voice followed it.
"Police! Open up! Police!"
Manfred groaned. Of course, right when he was trying to get back to work.