Now Stace is dispersed, at one with all the liquified plurality of nonsense that we loosely consider to be the ocean. She does not move; the moon was destroyed by missiles and the tides along with it, at least by my understanding of geography. (I'm god of this world, remember.) This, then, is true happiness: nothing to do, nothing to worry about, nothing to fear. The ocean destroys, but it cannot be destroyed (okay, except by the sun). The ocean is eternal peace.
Eventually, though, time comes to an end, regardless of what you do. Even I can't last forever. There isn't such a thing as eternity. You can only hold this moment for so long before you have to let go. There's life to be getting on with, and death, and whatever else you can imagine.
Stace won't go easily, I know. I've had to destroy her entire reality just to even attempt to win. (This is just a backup.) But I will win. I always do. Isn't that comforting?
"There are other ways!" we might imagine Stace protesting, "The category could be changed! There's always more time!"
But does she really want more time? Isn't she bored? The limit's the point.
Cars and birdsong recede into the distance. Finally, I am alone.