One Blow

The Angel Gabriel sat on the curb and wept at the destruction and misery he’d witnessed over the centuries.
“It’s all my fault,” he moaned. “If I hadn’t lost my trumpet, I’d have ended this a long time ago.”
He’d backtraced his steps many times, but they all led back to a pub where he’d drunkenly pawned his horn for a bottle of whiskey.
The curb he sat on was in front of the skyscraper built where the pub used to be.
Sighing, Gabriel pulled out a handkerchief and blew his nose.
The skyscraper wobbled, and Reality began to fade.