heliumgirl77

“In! In!” A cacophony of fumbling. The three of us spill under the lintel, the cracked reef-wood of the door presses against the smoothness of my skin; yielding in salt and half-splinters. Then I am within; a small room of dried thyme and Arabic gum, beige and brown. A jumble of shelves, some broken jars, some broken people. A silence. Thomas, last in line, pulls the door roughly to and leans hard against it. He is breathing heavily; a thin slit of yellow light moves across his face. Outside the dust muffles the cacophony of pursuit; the closed streets and awnings stifling an acrid yellow sun. Hushed fears cloister our accidental conspiracy. For a few seconds he just stands there, his right hand is clutched around the sandalwood butt of the fire-lock. Then he gestures with his eyes behind me, perhaps unwilling to risk a word. The other girl. The one who ran with us. She’s about my age, though hard to be sure. Hair is cropped short, almost boyish; an edge of strawberry blond