He stared at the keys in dismay. For a time, Roger could hardly move, for fear that movement would serve to make it all real. It couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t take the kind of world where this was allowed to happen. It was all gone. Everything. His masterpiece was no more. And the infernal machine was to blame.
Finally, he lifted his gaze.
The window was right there, offering a ten story drop to the rocky beach…
The next thing Roger knew, the window was standing open and the infernal machine was nothing but a speck vanishing in the distance as it flew and fell into the waves.
The cleansing surf washed away what little was left.
And it carried with it his anger, his rage, his emotions.