I wake up in bed, warm sweat draping my body. It's the middle of the night and everything is silent. My brain aches painfully processing the thoughts rushing through my head. I grip the bed sheets, but it makes no difference. I've killed four different people this week. I know my actions were necessary, but the memories still haunt me after the fact. It all started with one man. He turned my world upside-down, making my life unlivable. He was my boss. But now, he won't be so cocky, so ignorant, so conceited. He's in his grave. I grin thinking these thoughts. He had so much power, so much misplaced privilege, but he made oh so such poor choices. When I worked for him, he humiliated me only because I came from less fortunate places than him. After so much abuse, anyone would be fed up, right? I had to do something. Originally not something so violent, but my hatred got the better of me.

The wary traveler stumbles and crashes into the ground, his backpack disassembling itself from the impact. Tired, he rolls onto his back. His hand, moving with his body, hits something hard as it slaps the coarse dirt. He feels a small object, circular and cold. He grabs it and brings it to his face. It is a pocket mirror smaller than his palm. He flips open the cover, but does not see his reflection. He sees a portal which shows someone else's point of view. As he focuses on the mirror, he becomes totally immersed in the moving portrait. Inside, there is a meadow. One filled with blossoming flowers and grass reaching for the sky. The sky has not a cloud in it and he can hear the birds singing song. The man in the portal is sitting under an apple tree. His clothes look to be from long ago. He is wearing shaggy rags and has cloth shoes.