Lub-dub

Ralph tried to listen above the steady lub-dub, lub-dub of Ryan's heart, but soon he grew bored. Ryan's shirt was new and the flannel still fuzzy. Ralph nipped a hole in the front of the pocket for a better view and then, lulled by the muffled lub-dub, lub-dub and the steady rise and fall of Ryan's chest, fell asleep as if he were being rocked in a cradle.

I pulled my eyes away to glance downstream at a cinder cone perched at the brink of the left Esplanade above the mouth of Prospect Canyon and the still-hidden Lava Falls. My heart lub-dubbed a few beats quicker.