Elijah

Chapter One

The moment that I stepped outside on that warm Wednesday afternoon, I realised my mistake. I stood, still, on the pavement just outside of my front door and gazed upwards towards the blue sky which was so many shades brighter than I had anticipated. The sun was creeping above the row of houses opposite and glared down upon me and the apartment building from which I had just emerged. Where the paintwork had chipped away from the iron balconies above, the small specks of exposed metal reflected the light back across the street. My home, in this instant, appeared to be canvassed with tiny glowing stars. Beautiful, yes, but also hugely unexpected and therefore massively frustrating for me at the time.
It was early February, and in fairness to me, I was certainly dressed in attire that most would consider fitting for that time of year. However what wasn't fitting for that time of year was the incredibly warm weather, which had entirely bamboozled me in every sense of the word.

It was too late to turn back now. I had 25 minutes to reach a destination 25 minutes away and thus, my waistcoat, tie, shirt, and uncomfortably tight fitting suit trousers would all have to remain on for the duration as I carried my jacket over my arm. Of course, how could I have failed to guess that it would reach 21 degrees in early February? How foolish of me. February in the United Kingdom is, after all, renowned for its scorchingly high temperatures. What an absolute buffoon I was to have dressed in relatively sensible clothes, left my home in the morning - exactly on time - and not expected to have been slapped in the face by another typical February heatwave.
The warmth was drawn to my dark clothing as I walked and constantly I thought about turning back to change. But, this was an interview that I was in such a hurry to get to and, though I am by no means famed for my punctuality, I wasn't going to be late.
I turned into a more built up area and the larger buildings, thankfully, provided quite consistent shade for the majority of the walk. Unfortunately, though, these buildings did little to lower the uncomfortable heat that I soon found was in-escapable. Indeed, I also soon found that this was in fact the hottest day that the month of February had ever seen in the UK. What a day for my warm, slim-fit waistcoat to make its debut. I'd just wanted to look smart for an interview, but it sincerely felt as if a radiator was wrapped around my body. Undoubtedly, it is hard to appear smart when the copious amounts of sweat as a result of your poor choices makes you look like an actual puddle of water. A puddle of warm, overly stressed - yet well dressed - water.

I walked along Malcolm Street, an area of London to which I had never ventured before. I was new to the city, so I suppose there were few areas to which I actually had ventured, but still, it was nice to see somewhere new. As far as I could tell it was relatively similar to any average street in the capital; on either side of me were huge flats, office buildings and every now and then one of those tall pointed glass buildings that I had always found so impressive. I thought that perhaps soon every building in London would be made out of glass, reflecting the hot rays of the sun over the streets; blinding everyone that passed by. There would be too many car crashes, I suspected, so it could never happen. Plus, in the event of an earthquake or perhaps the dropping of a bomb, the city would be completely shattered. Certainly it would be harder to clean up millions of shards of broken glass than it would be had the buildings been made of bricks or concrete; everybody would cut themselves. No, it could never happen.

It was a long street, and every so often the huge high rises were interrupted by an outrageously overpriced coffee shop or café. You'd expect the cost to drive people away but they all appeared busy; crowds flocked in and out as the minutes closed in on the start of the working day. In every direction the street bustled with people, mostly young, everyone seemingly in a great rush to reach an important destination.
I should have fit in perfectly. I, too, was hurrying to be somewhere of significance and at 25 years of age I was without doubt a young man. Yet, the moment that I turned onto the circus of suited men that was Malcolm Street, I felt that I didn't belong.