Jigsaw (NaNoWriMo13)

This is my submission for NaNoWriMo 2013, it won't affect me updating any of my other books. 

All Rights Reserved, all characters, situations, places, and businesses belong to me. In no way is this to be reproduced without my express written permission. 

EDITED!

It is perhaps with great reluctance, that I step out of my warm flat, and into the cold, frigid air of London. The smell of traffic fumes and rotten leaves reach my nose, and I find myself wrinkling it automatically. The soft, leather underside of my shoes stick to the sticky pavements as I trundle slowly through the streets. My bag is heavy and bashes into my knees at random intervals, my hair is getting caught in the straps and I find myself almost screaming in frustration.

It's my first day, and already, I'm going to be late. I sigh, as I stumble up a crumbling  curb and try to work away the big ball of dread that has formed in the deepest confines of my stomach. It's still early, but I know that in another half hour, the streets will be packed with people rushing to and from work, taking their kids to school, and engaging in the horrific activity that is shopping.

My mind blurs out the roar of the traffic- which is slowly chugging its way onto the deadly silent streets - and turn my head whenever I pass someone who even looks in my direction. From my limited experience of city life, people don't like to look strangers in the eye at six thirty in the morning. My heart is thudding, and my legs feel strangely like jelly. I'm not normally a nervous person. In fact I usually dive into situations without really thinking of the consequences. But now, my legs are shaking and my mouth is dry. It takes me several tense moments to recognise the feelings as nerves. I shake my head perplexedly and continue the walk, wrapping my arms around my body. It's a cool, crisp morning with the slightest hint of fog in the morning, that swirls around the street lights and licks at the derelict windows.

I come to the little row of shops, most of them with the shutters still down, the flats above and the shops below make them look strangely like monsters, ready to swallow me whole. I adjust the collar on my crisp white shirt and walk slowly down the street. A muffled silence hangs over the stony grey shopfronts, so quiet that it is loud simultaneously. The sun is slowly peeking over the horizion, rising high into the sky and highlighting the brass door knockers of the houses at the opposite end of the street, They seem to wink at me as I come to my final destination.

The café stands out well above the rest of the dully painted shops on this street, daubed in a coat of bright blue paint, the frosty glass paned front attracts the attention of  curious passers by immediately. The white and blue sign above reads Un bon café. Despite my nerves, I smile warmly at it. It gives me a funny warm feeling, one I haven't felt in a long time. I step into the small cafe, hands shaking with nerves and cold.

The smell of roasted coffee hits me immediately. So that I have to stop and inhale the deep, earthy armoa. The scent of cofffee in the morning has always been a better stimulant that actually drinking. Strange, I know. A bell rings, tinny and low pitched signalling my arrival.

A tall, dark haired guy with the deepest brown eyes I have ever seen steps out from behind the counter, a warm smile painted onto his handsome face. Not for the second time that day, I find myself becoming tongue tied. Any words that were going to leave my mouth, withered and died on the tip of my tongue when I was presented with this. . . Sex god. No exaggeration.

He approaches me and I catch a whiff of his aftershave, a soft, manly scent that entices a shiver deep in my stomach. Up close, I can see that his eyes are flecked with gold, like melted caramel and he has a fine dusting of freckles across his nose and cheeks. His uniform, a tight, blue polo shirt, clings to his toned chest and broad shoulders. I actually have to resist the temptation to lick my lips.