Survivor's Guilt (HTML excerpt)
It would come back to him later, many times, more times than a mortal could count, as he endured the endless days of a world made new: I could have done something.

By some accounts, things were better now. If not better, then at least more exciting. Magic was loose in the world. Children flew daredevil above the rooftops. Computer engineers embarked on monster-slaying quests. Curse met anti-curse in schoolyards and in glass towers. Dreamers sent their nightmares to walk the waking world, where no shortage of new-made heroes waited to face them.

But he remembered—how could he forget?—the sudden and merciless upheaval that had marked the shift from before to after. How the very landscape had shuddered and shrugged during the transformation, like an actor changing costumes between scenes. How reality itself had ripped loose from its moorings, how impossible storms had strewn their paths with wreckage. How the laws of physics had bent and broken, raising miracles to heaven and dropping airplanes from the sky. His great head bowed under the weight of those memories, and once again he thought, I could have done something.

He had, in those days, been a bus driver....
This has been an excerpt from the Friday Fictionette for July 22, 2016. Subscribers can download the full-length fictionette (907 words) from Patreon as an ebook or audiobook depending on their pledge tier.

Cover art incorporates photograph from Wikimedia Commons (dragon, public domain) and stock photography from (bus, CC0 license)
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