In the dim and cold confines of the basement, Paul lay on the hard ground, his gaze fixated on the unforgiving concrete ceiling. The isolation and despair had taken a toll on his mental state, and it was clear that he had become a mere shadow of the person he once was.
Suddenly, the basement door creaked open, and a maid entered, breaking the eerie silence that had enveloped the room. Her presence prompted Paul to shift his gaze in a peculiar manner, a reflection of the mental turmoil he was enduring. He inhaled deeply, as though attempting to ground himself in reality, and then spoke with an air of desperation.
"Eat something."
"Call Elena, or I won't eat," Paul demanded, his voice laced with a mixture of urgency and a yearning for connection.
