She stands on stage clad in a crimson and burgundy dress, long, flowy, supple. She spins. Faster, faster, faster; she can’t stop, she cries out; half for help, half for glee. The world is spinning while she spins against it. Ebony hair falling out of place, shining like coal in a fire flies behind her back, its natural waves fluttering behind her like a sail on a ship. Round face open to the world, open and willing to try anything. Her coral dress flies parallel to her sail, a ship’s ballast beholden her as she screams louder and louder and louder; so loud that the earth shook and the heavens wept for all of the angels heard her cry. Hands reach out and stop her, warm hands caressing her very soul. She is stopped, hair flying in her face, dress hanging quietly around her body. He stands before her, a clear face in her tornado.