Eyes of the Storm

The room felt heavy, as if the air itself could sense the storm brewing within her. She sat in silence but the tension was palpable, almost tangible. Her face now held the weight of gathering clouds that were dark and foreboding. The storm was not in the sky, but in her eyes—those fierce, electric eyes where thunder gathered. Every flicker of emotion was a flash of lightning, a prelude to the tempest that rumbled just beneath her skin. The quiet before the storm. The brief, deceptive calm that fools us all.