I was proud to admit that there wasn’t too much of a mess, but everything else was pretty condemning. The door had been blown off its hinges and was now lying a considerable distance down the hall. Inky black smoke wafted from a scorch mark in its center, leaving absolutely no question that I was the one who blasted it; a smoking gun, if you will. The same could be said for the path of destruction I had wrought through innocent walls, rooms, and halls to create a long passageway.