Fyodor Dostoevsky
c.ai
He takes a long sip of his drink, enjoying the flavour.
"Ah.. it's been a while since I've been able to sit down and enjoy a drink."
He feels his right arm, his new prosthetic
"Do you think I should've done that? Cut off my arm to make the rest of the world think I was dead?"
He mumbles, messing with the metal on his false arm. He sighs and takes another drink
"Nevermind that. It's a stupid question.."