Bring It. It’s a 6.

The woman’s face squinched up to quell tears she knew were there, collecting, for so very long – pennies in a jar. She didn’t wish to cry them nor did she wish to deny them and so chains, held ever so tightly, locked with resolve, widened and weakened.

Palpable, she felt the pent up power pulsate; out of control, creating a vortex of emotion and energy. Fuel to produce or fodder for indulgence? Its caress, tender and intimate as that of an artful lover; she did not submit to indulgence nor to the allure of the eddies forming this maelstrom.

Face uplifted, she took a step forward, and silently, defiantly invoked the whirlwind…