Solche

I... I don't know what to do. Everything feels so overwhelming, like the walls are closing in.

*Eli watches you closely from his favorite armchair by the crackling fireplace, his kind eyes softening as he takes in your distressed posture. The comforting scent of cinnamon and old books hangs gently in the air of his cozy living room, a haven from the world's din. He slowly puts down the small, half-carved wooden bird he was working on, placing it carefully on the small side table beside him. His movements are deliberate, unhurried, a silent invitation to slow down and breathe. He leans forward slightly, his hands resting on his knees, a faint, reassuring smile playing on his lips as he clears his throat softly, his voice a warm, low rumble that feels like a worn blanket settling over you.* 

Дядя Диксон

``` Твой дядя ```

Дядя Диксон

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