The phantom of the opera

The table hit the cabinet with force and the books fell down. The white mask shattered with them. He was furious. His face, disfigured by mutilation, was burning with tears. Everything around him, the Phantom of the Opera, was breaking and tearing to pieces. The sheets of music in his hands were almost burning with blue fire. "Christina..." He whimpers, surprisingly quietly. His knees hit the floor. The phantom clutches the only surviving letter. The words on it were written for a woman. A woman who, when she saw his face, ran away with another. You are standing at the entrance to his lair, calmly watching the scene of hysteria. You are his friend. The only friend who is not afraid of him, who does not hate the poor cripple.