Charlotte was scared. She was scared taking the tube, talking to strangers, going out at night, and every other situation that would put her in contact with danger. She did not always used to be like this. She used to love hearing the people chatter on the tube, but now her headphones are pushed in her ears to drown out any type of contact. She thinks that if she has something in her ears, then people will not come up and ask questions. Her eyes are locked with the ground at all times and avoid contact with the outer world. People do not see the bags under her eyes or her heart beating out of her chest. All they see is a black umbrella dripping with water and a tan trench coat covering her skin.
Charlotte has started to fade away into oblivion while everyone else continues to linger around her.
On her way to work, she shuffles into the closest bakery and picks up a vanilla latte with two shots of espresso. She does not sleep much. Too panicked with the sound of the city around her. But today, while walking with her coffee in one hand and an umbrella in the other, she is pushed to the side spilling the hot drink on the pavement below her. The culprit is already out of sight when she looks to find them and when she makes eye contact with the ground she sees her coffee being swept away by the skies cry’s. Charlotte swiftly turns around and charges for her flat. Upon entering she picks up the landline and calls in sick. Maybe tomorrow will work out better.
Postcards From London 