Keep It Quiet

Breakfast

I sat on my bed, doing up my buttons. I hadn't checked the time yet, but it was beginning to get brighter, as the sun shone up through the city, so I guessed it was around 7.

I walked into my kitchen, hoping to find something to make me less sleepy. I looked in the direction of my espresso machine, and I could feel a light bulb over my head. Then the light grew dimmer as I remembered I had forgotten to buy coffee yesterday evening at the Walmart that was situated a few blocks from my apartment.

As a Brit, I automatically thought about my secret stash of tea under my bed. As a Scott, I ran for it so I could get it as soon as possible. As a person living in New York, I decided to put the tea in a tiny cup, but with more tea bags so I could have more caffeine.

I thought about making eggs, or pancakes, but I knew that I would have no time to eat it in. So I grabbed my wallet to see how much I had, and decided to venture into the outside world early so I could get a Starbucks and maybe a granola bar.

As I walked down the stairs, I saw that my neighbours had their lights on, and I swear that Monday mornings will do that to a person. I reached the bottom of the stairs, and continued to walk out of the door. The sound of the city hit me like a ton of bricks. More like a ton of titanium. I folded my arms to protect myself from the cold, although I was from Scotland, so I probably didn't need to.

Starbucks was full to the brim with people like me. Bankers, solicitors, lawyers, things like that. I was at the back of the queue. I waited about 15 minutes until I reached the register. The woman said,

"Hello ma'am can I take your order?" She had a very strong New York accent.

"Just a cappuccino for me, thanks lassie."

"What?"

"A cappuccino."

"Oh. Right." She looked at me in a funny sort of way. "Who is the cup for?"

"Ariana." I said.

"Cool." She was chewing gum, and opening her mouth really wide to do so.

I walked out of Starbucks, holding my cup and looking miserable as ever. I hated walking to my office. It was very tedious. I had to walk about 3 more blocks to get to it, and I hated the New York traffic. The building itself was awkward. The man at the door hated me, probably because he was racist and I was so incredibly Scottish with my ginger hair, and tartan scarf.

I sat down at my desk. I had barely touched my coffee, and it was going cold, so I put it in the microwave for about 10 seconds. When I returned to y desk, an envelope with my name written on it. I opened it up and sighed.

"Dear Miss Floyd,

I would like to invite you to lunch in my office at 12 o'clock this afternoon to discuss the new advertisement strategy for the company. Bring a bottle.

Kind Regards, Mr Clark Horux.

x"

"Oh God." I whispered under my breath.

"Since when did you start praying?" I looked up to see my best friend, Angel Kelly. Angel was a very beautiful woman. She had olive skin, long dark hair, wore the right colours and the nicest thing about her, was her bright blue eyes.

"I haven't. Mr Horux has invited me to lunch again." I gave her the letter.

"I think he wants to discuss a little more than the advertisement strategy!" She laughed. I smiled at her. Her laugh was very bubbly, quite uplifting.