Birthright

“Shhh….” Dori bent at the waist and cupped her hands around the girl’s cheeks. The effect was immediate. The fussing stopped, the girl losing herself in the blonde’s gentle eyes and enlarged pupils. “Hello,” she said softly. Her eyes held steady as she eased onto the bench and sat beside the redhead, close enough that their legs touched.
When she was comfortable with the connection, Dori placed a palm in the center of the girl’s chest, above her heart and lungs. A spiritualist would label it as the green chakra, but Dori only thought of it as a convergence of life force. She wiggled her fingers. Slowly she began to pull her hand away, and that energy, so necessary to maintaining life, went with her. A perceptive person might see a haze in the air, like a light mist; others would see nothing. Dori stretched the connection between them farther and farther, like a rubber band drawing taut. As she did so, she didn’t blink. She barely moved with respiration. The girl’s eyes widened.

All of a sudden, Dori snapped her hand into a fist.
It was done. The girl went as loose as dirty laundry in Ruben’s hands. Her headphones were on crooked.

“Done,” she said.