Her body simply collapsed and folded over.
Her ears thumped, her body hiccuped to the baritone sound coming from deep within.
Soon, her back straightened so that it kissed the door again, hands now massaging the slick floor. Her water stained face pointed toward the ceiling.
Her eyes scrunched, her crooked mouth unhinged, and a maddening shrill erupted.
This week Galit asked you to conjure something. An object, a person, a feeling, a color, a season- whatever you like. But don’t tell us what it is, conjure it. In 100 words.
Editor's note: Today's piece is a continuation from last week. Why not, right?