Drabble 89

The ticking of the wall clock was driving Detective Magnus Sorenson mad. It was ten minutes until four a.m.
He squeezed his eyes shut, felt his heart rate pick up. Four a.m. He hadn’t sleep in four days now. Seventy-two hours ago he’d killed a man.
His first. Magnus rolled over closer to Ingrid, wrapped his arms around her. She snuggled closer, kissed his cheek.
“Baby?”
“Shh, go back to sleep.”
Ingrid’s warm breath on his chest soothed him enough to nod off.
But half an hour later he was up again. He had blood on his hands and mind.
And he was going on four days with little sleep.

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