Women fight differently from men. You couldn’t get me to hurt a woman’s breasts for anything. I know how tender my own are when I’m PMSing. Besides, we feed babies with them.
We stand strong, or we cower. We emerge victorious, tempered by our trials , or fractured by a permanent, damming fault line.
He threw his hands to his eyes and hissed. Like the hiss of incinerating ashes. 'What is this bright, orange orb in the sky that mocks me with its warmth?
