Clare had moved significantly ahead of Trisha now, still beaming and spinning, almost spraying fliers out like a lawn sprinkler, but not one missing a valid target.
He continued charging, stumbling almost blindly forwards. Away from the location of the initial fracas, he appeared as nothing more than a deeply anti-social young man in a hurry to be elsewhere.
Clare didn’t quite dance her way through the passing people… but she certainly had a knack for travelling easily amidst the general flow of the busy high street.
The noise pressed down upon him. While he sat there, the insistent ebb and flow of people continued around him. Now there was no avoidance, they were close. His bench was no longer his own.