Hard Beat

When my instinct tells me that everybody is going on with their everyday lives except to eye the out-of-place couple we make, we dart into a small alleyway that leads us to the rear of the market. With each step, my pulse beats faster and a sheen of sweat that has nothing to do with the heat causes my shirt to stick to my shoulders. A rush of nerves starts to rise up in my gut as I push past the memories I can’t deal with right now. And just as the narrow lane opens up to a larger opening, I turn to face Beaux.