"Today was the fifth time I experienced this same day. Everything happened as I remembered it but this time I feel like someone else noticed it"

The words written in his most intimate diary, an object that remained in his possession at all times and where his darkest thoughts could flow freely outside of that bubble of time that his life had become, which he remembered it were five days. All the same, all immovably the same that even he was no longer sure if five days had really passed or if his mind was playing the cruelest joke of existence itself

He felt his sanity deteriorate under the hardships of that endless day. Whenever the sun set, everything repeated itself on the same day, every conversation, every action, every event

The poor marquis was weakening little by little