I am holding a book, devouring its contents. I don't want to stop, even though my eyes are a bit tired. They still want to read and finish the book. I've read at least a hundred pages. There's at least a hundred more. I hear the steps of my father on the carpet up the stairs, as he comes up from downstairs. He goes to the bathroom. I hear him brushing his teeth. He pads softly down the hallway after he has brushed his teeth, and cracks open the door.
He whispers for me to go to sleep, it's very late. 
I reply with "Mm, soon."
He pads into his bedroom. I close the door and continue to read. I turn my reading lamp slightly into the wall, to avoid any light going through my doorway.