Don't Knock While Entering

A middle-aged man works remotely as a design engineer. Isolated, he is mired in an incessant work routine that makes his appearance lose any signs of life - his eyes glassy, bags under his eyes, his shirt crumpled. At one point, during another videoconference, there is a knock at the door of his room, from an empty apartment. He decides to listen, but the knocking continues. Suddenly, after a brief pause, he abruptly snaps out of it, disconnects from the conference, tears the blueprints off the whiteboard on the wall of his room, and turns over all the things that remind him of his work. His girlfriend calls him and voices her grievances about their relationship. He listens obediently and silently, while hurriedly going through the books on the shelf. In Brodsky's book he finds a postcard, makes notes in it, and signs himself as the sender. The knocks on his door intensify. After another heated monologue from the girl, he drops the call. His boss calls, and he listens to his claims for a second, then throws the phone out the open window. When the door to the room is attempted to be opened, he briefly ponders, gathers the blueprints into a neat stack, puts the picture with the girl on the table, and then pulls a glass and an unopened bottle of wine from the cabinet.
The door opens and we see a man sitting by the open window, the desk next to him empty. There is only a signed postcard. He greets the knocking, invisible to the viewer "something" with a welcoming smile, he friendly holds out a second filled glass to it.