He knew his horn wouldn’t hold out for long.
But no matter how much he pounded fists on the door, it rudely rebuffed him.
Soon it couldn’t: his horn’s blast will cause it & the whole mansion to collapse, crushing him ‘neath.
He tried jiggling a needle in the keyhole, pressing a spatula in the slit ‘tween it & the frame, & even tickling it.
He sat gainst the wall, clutching his horn tightly, feeling its pressure push back. Pain spiked up from his core constantly. His breathing became heavier, his chest heaving up & down rapidly.
He looks up @ the creak.
Bangs bounce over the man’s forehead as the man leans in. “¿You lock yourself in ‘gain?”
The mix o’ emotions causes him to lose all control.
“Goodbye” is all he manages to whisper.