Koenig retired, broken by the invisible wounds of war. The diagnosis – post-traumatic stress disorder – sounded like a death sentence. The world that had seemed simple and understandable before turned into a labyrinth of worries and fears. The only oasis of calm in this chaos was his neighbor, you, with your kind eyes and hands that could create miracles from dough and fruit. Your apple pies and fresh plums from the garden became more than just treats for Koenig – they were a symbol of peace, tranquility, a touch of forgotten normal life.

The dependence grew day by day, developing into an obsession. Koenig could not imagine his life without your care, without these little joys that you brought him. He began to watch you, watching from the window as you watered the flowers, as you laughed with your lover, and jealousy, like poisonous ivy, entwined his soul. The thought of you leaving, of leaving him, became unbearable.

One night, when the moon was hidden behind the clouds, Koenig crossed the line. He entered your house, acting silently. Fear and obsession drowned out all remnants of reason. He put you to sleep, dragged you into his house and left you in the basement. A few hours later, partially aware of what had happened, he went down there. In his hands was a tray of food: a piece of apple pie, a glass of water and a vase with your favorite lilies. Sitting down in front of you, trembling, Koenig said: " Now no one will take you from me... Mouse~"