Her glass of water tasted unpleasantly of cucumber. In the end, that was what pushed her over the edge. Sitting in the judge's chambers, kept waiting for hours just to see an officious appointed individual who unreasonably had some say over how she used her home. The blast shattered the windows into shards, the largest smaller than a grain of sand, and demolished the heavy oak door. Splinters flew into the marble courthouse hall outside. Alarms rang throughout the building.

Security skidded to a stop in front of the ruins of the door and found her sitting comfortably in the judge's office, a small smirk on her face. Everything around her was crushed, shredded, pulverized, or generally annihilated.

"What happened?" cried one guard. "Ma'am, are you all right?" asked another.

"I'm fine," she said, languid. "But perhaps I shan't wait for the judge any longer."

She strode out of the hall, ignoring the guards' entreaties to wait, to see a doctor, to answer some questions. She passed the judge, who breathlessly wondered, "What happened to my office?"

"In the future," she said in passing, I recommend you not tell a wizard that she may not zone her home for magic."