Jungle Drum

The drums began to tap in the distance, gradually building up their volume like an approaching train. The dissident looked for somewhere to hide, an instinctive reaction, and tried his best not to unsettle his head. The figure drifted closer, but still she did not see him. There were enough clothes racks and shinny shelves to help him blend, the constant buzz of beings helping his cause. She moved closer still. He tried his best to think like paint, to become part of the scenery and melt into the walls, a white boy on the white wash. He had noticed her in an instant, his body realising before his brain. The sight of her face from afar enough to squeeze his heart like a sponge. His skin crackled and shifted its nervous weight with alarming fervour, his blood thundering around his veins with exactly the same idea as to what to do with itself as he. S.H.