2 To 3 Glasses Of Wine Per Day, Reduce Your Risk Of Giving A Shit.

In the heart of a bustling metropolis, nestled among skyscrapers that scraped the belly of the sky, lived Paras, a mid-level manager at a firm that was as prestigious as it was demanding. Paras's life was a tightly wound clockwork of deadlines, meetings, and endless emails, a relentless cycle that left little room for the whims of the heart or the musings of the mind.

?But Paras harbored a secret antidote to the pressures of corporate life, a remedy discovered almost by accident on a particularly taxing evening that had stretched into the tendrils of night. With a glass of rich, velvety red wine in hand—a gift from a client he had almost forgotten—he found himself sinking into his couch, the day's worries dissolving with each sip. The wine whispered of distant vineyards, of sun-drenched afternoons and earthy undertones, and Paras listened, enraptured.

Intrigued by the serenity that had washed over him, Paras embarked on a modest experiment: two or three glasses of red wine per day, to see if the magic was real or just a fleeting trick of the mind. It wasn't long before he noticed a transformation, subtle yet profound. Where once a missed deadline or a critical email would set his heart racing, he now found a shrug lurking in place of panic. The problems didn't disappear, but the edges seemed softer, less catastrophic.

?Paras's newfound philosophy didn't go unnoticed. His colleagues whispered of his unflappable demeanor, how the storms of office politics and last-minute changes seemed to bypass him entirely. "He's got some secret," they murmured, watching as Paras navigated the corporate seas with an almost uncanny ease.

?But the true test came on a gloomy Tuesday, when a project Paras had poured his soul into was unceremoniously scrapped, the victim of shifting priorities and budget cuts. The news was delivered with a clinical detachment, and all eyes turned to Paras, expecting a reaction that never came. Instead, Paras smiled, his mind alight with the memory of last night's glass of wine, a robust Bordeaux that spoke of resilience and the art of not giving a damn.

In the weeks that followed, Paras became something of a sage, his colleagues seeking the secret to his equanimity. With a twinkle in his eye, he spoke not of wine but of perspective, of finding one's anchor in the storm. And though he often returned to his small apartment to the embrace of a glass of red, it was the lessons learned from those moments of reflection that truly shaped him.

The city continued its frenetic dance, indifferent to the transformations within its midst. But for Paras, the world seemed a little less sharp, the shadows a little less dark. He moved through life with gentle defiance, a testament to the power of two or three glasses of wine per day and the art of reducing one's risk of giving a shit.

And so, the legend of Paras's unshakable calm spread far and wide, a beacon to weary souls navigating the tumultuous waters of life. In the end, it wasn't just about the wine, but about the spaces between the chaos, the moments of quiet rebellion against the tyranny of the urgent. For in those moments, Paras found not just solace, but freedom.