Johan's eyes brightened at his wristwatch while he laid on the couch like a log of wood.

“Huh?” he gasped, jerking from the couch. It was exactly three in the afternoon. “How could I have slept this much?” he cogitated, fully aware he'd to be on air by four to report the news of the murder case.

His somnolent eyes swept across the room. Suddenly, he grabbed his tie and briefcase as the thought of being queried by his boss who possessed a devil-may-care personality struck him.

He pulled out a drawer, took out his apartment and car key, forced his legs into his shoes, fixed his shirt buttons as he paced towards the door. He angrily grabbed the doorknob and slammed the door of his apartment shut. His tie hung behind the upright collar of his blue shirt, whilst his briefcase was held under his armpit. He hastily thrust his fidgeting hand into the depth of his pocket, rescued his drowning key, and slid it into the lock.

Lost in thoughts, he squeezed his eyes shut and buried his face in