I toss the last object I destroyed, my night lamp, into the garbage bag.
I take the black bag, bend down, and finally close it with a strong knot. I straighten up and move to the other bags by my room's door, ready to be tossed into the large container outside. I look around my room, and it is no longer what it was a few hours ago. I have swept the entire floor, picked up every piece of glass, every piece of wood. I cleaned up all the spilled paint and organized my little art studio, just as I did with my entire room.
«Everything looks untouched. If only it were that simple»
I look towards the doors leading to my balcony, the urge to open them wells up inside me, so I waste no time in moving towards them and doing so. I hurry across my room, driven by a desperate need for fresh air, a
