My mom always said, there are two kinds of love in this world: the steady breeze, and the hurricane. The steady breeze is slow and patient. It fills the sails of the boats in the harbor, and lifts laundry on the line. It cools you off on a hot summer day, brings the leaves to fall, like clockwork every year. You can count on a breeze, steady and sure and true.
But there's nothing steady about a hurricane. It rips through town, reckless, sending the ocean foaming up the shore, felling trees and powerlines and anyone dumb or fucked-up enough to stand in it's path. Sure, it's a thrill like nothing you've ever known: your pulse kicks, your body calls to it, like a spirit possessed. It's wild and breathless and all-consuming.
But what comes next?
"You see a hurricane coming, you run."

Unbroken by Melody Grace