Robert steps through
the door, returning to the meadow he has spent lifetimes walking away
from. For a moment his brain just doesn't comprehend what he's
seeing. He turns back saying “I don't understand,”. There's no
door there, no cottage, just endless summery meadow.
He turns, bewildered,
nauseous, as the realisation crashes into him, sinking him to his
knees. A deep, throbbing ache invades his brain. He clutches his
temples, squeezing his forehead, trying almost to push the pain down,
back, away. He's only vaguely aware that he's shouting “No, no,
no...” over and over.
He crumples the short
distance to the ground, allowing himself to curl into a ball,
clutching at himself, trying to calm down.
