Author: Candid Corvid Productions

She had to stay with the ship to protect the others, for it was never an option to abandon them.

Her sea legs had gone missing.

She had to believe that just as the world kept turning, so too could circumstances shift – and undercurrents could still carry them to dry land.

All she could do was try to manage the losses, which was a repeating theme that she could barely rally any more courage for.

She wished that he could be there for her and help her overcome these trials, but she had no flares – nor even faith that he would have seen them and come for her.

She had not allowed herself to rely on help from a man in these ways because it had been her experience that men these days would usually abdicate leadership responsibilities.

Even more though, however, she longed to feel his arms around her to be able to warm her bones with his heat and share comfort.

When no longer any wind to steer the helm by?

Keeping panic at bay so that she could keep assessing for alternative currents to follow was becoming more difficult to navigate.

—

(Ocean terms…)

She was pretty certain that she couldn’t even swim, anymore.

She had always had abilities to salvage it before, and had hoped that she could at least reach solid ground before it capsized.

It seemed that she had no other recourse, and it churned her stomach into knots.

She had begun to think of how to get the others launched on a “life boat,” for they would be able to go farther without her.

“Listening to the Beatles’ original, ‘The Fool On The Hill,’ the song on the radio station suddenly goes dead air – and then this version with Smooth Jazz Sax comes on…

I don’t think that the song was supposed to be so sexxy.!”