Drum

Driving along the built up streets of inner-London in her battered vauxhall vectra, my thoughts are drowned out by the musings of a radio DJ interspersed with Emily's tuneless humming. We don't speak for the entire journey, my mind becoming contentedly numb, her's full, I'm sure with my teary story-telling. Her skin is irridescent in the light of the sun through the windshield, hands glow with a gentle tan, palms drum a rhythm to match her song, on the steering wheel. I close my eyes and let my skin bathe in the afternoon sun, the strength of it depicting an orange glow behind my eyelids.