New York. Maiden Lane. Over Sleepy's. That's where he sits; no noise, just sitting. This man, you see, isn't anyone special, nor powerful but just an ordinary man. But why this man? Because in his apartment, next the bed is a dead woman. Her eyes are closed, like she's sleeping; but the asleep don't have stab wounds all over their bodies. But who is this man and woman. Who knows, just another couple I find while searching through my dreams.