Bullet to the Messenger
I think the page has finally turned. I tried to do it gingerly before, afraid to tear the delicate paper, but if turning the page was the ultimate goal, firmly but unaggressively ripping it leftward made sense. And I did.
The page had to turn. I feel relieved the image on it is now concealed. Two small slivers still remain from top and bottom edges that were left behind in the ripping, haunting me by hinting of the initial picture. But the storm is over. The message has been read.