His Hurricane

Her mind. Her heart.

Some may agree that the mind of a woman is at often times a shade of organised chaos. It is a tightly controlled system with a pecking order of a big top circus tent. From emotional responses shaped like acrobats to daily chores wearing the expression of a worn out ring master, lion tamers grappling with heartbreaking decisions and clowns juggling intimidating balls of responsibility. Amongst the organisation, the pecking order, the chaos there is small girl gasping in awe at the wonderment of adulthood, fooling herself into believing it to be full of freedom and splendour.
However, a woman's heart is nothing like
this. The age old argument of using your head or using your heart. The mind may be messy but it is easily taught, it easily learns. Whereas the heart is reckless and foolish. It is a rock, thick skinned, hard headed in appearance but in reality it contains a storm that is encased in armour. Piercing the stone exterior or there is a soft cloud of aggressively strong love and hate. The weather in a woman's heart is unpredictable, the worst of all natural disasters as it whirls and twirls and spirals, tying itself into knots over people and feelings that would never cast a breeze in her direction. This is the best way to illustrate heartbreak. Heartbreak is when a crack appears in the foundation of a woman's heart, just big enough to allow a flurry of snow or soft fog to exude into her body, travelling to the circus of her mind and clouding the stage for a brief while.
Amongst all this trauma and anguish and rare moments of joyfulness, if you were ever to catch a glimpse into the eye of the storm that is a woman's heart, you would see her feet rooted firmly next to the one she loves most.
In the spectacular case of Riley Fort, you would see her feet planted firmly next to his...