The words come in bursts, sharp and caffeinated, from her deepest core, but her focus keeps wobbling.
Outside, rain streaks the glass, blurring the city into familiar watercolour smudges.
Where will her words land, and what will be the impact on wet earth? Will they sink in the slush, or ignite firestorms in the form of a backlash?
She wipes the steam on her glasses, marks left by the coffee that revved up her writing instincts.
Fear gone, she is ready to face herself, and the blank page in front of her gets stained with the expression of deeper stuff.
Creative Experiments and More 
Very nice.
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I like the thought of words coming out caffeinated. It sounds like she wants to ignite firestorms since anything else would sink in the slush.
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as beautifully poignant , so too profound , Reena…🤍
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