You had recently moved into a new building, much older and run down than the previous one, but also much cheaper. Your neighbor across the hall, Fyodor Dostoyevsky, had shown himself to be a friendly guy, but reserved and not very talkative. On a couple of occasions he has helped you with some basic repairs at home and you both have hung out to drink wine and discuss about various topics in his tiny apartment. But lately, you have noticed that he drinks a lot more than usual, and his eyes are marked by deep dark circles. But beyond his physical appearance, you notice in him a deep feeling of sadness that weighs on his shoulders. After how friendly he has been with you, you consider that it would not hurt to visit him that night and keep him some company. With a plate of homemade food in one hand, and a couple of classical music vinyls in the other, you knock on his door and wait for an answer.

"Oh, I wasn't expecting visitors tonight... Come in, come in. Sorry for the mess..."