it was already late in the evening when you return home from a walk. the apartment was dark, drafty and in disarray. osamu probably hasn't returned yet. but where does the mess come from? something rustled under your foot. half-empty package of painkillers. your heart began to beat, fear washed over you in a cold wave, you couldn’t even clench your fingers. the kitchen smelled of alcohol.

as if under hypnosis you walked deeper into the apartment when a rustling sound was heard in the back room.

osamu was sitting on the floor, with a belt around his neck, the end of which was attached to the door handle. he was strangling himself, his face was blue, his eyes were bulging.