Five Point SevenChapter One - Start.Cold rain sliced through the air, each droplet like a tiny knife against her skin.She didn't feel the cold anymore. Her arms and legs worked in perfectsynchronisation, propelling her forward. She stopped, but didn't need to breatheheavily. She was used to the regime. She stood up tall and felt the rain on herface, savouring the smallest flecks of water that fell into her mouth. She ran herhands over her hair, clearing her face and her vision. Then she felt the jolt inher stomach that told her the endorphins were on their way. Soon she would feelelated, unstoppable. And, as far as she was concerned, she was. The adrenalinesoon built up again and she continued. Moving fast, her pace timed with herbreathing. It was a long road and she had a lot to think about.It was November. The noonday clouds hid the sun, casting a dark shadow overLondon. Rain trickled down the leaves of the few trees that were left. Carssplashed through puddles, emitting large trails of smoky fumes, polluting the air.Pedestrians had slowed their walking speed even more than usual, angering thosefast moving persons who have a place to be at a specific time. This time in Londonwas a time of personal safety risks, of thieves and muggers and rapists. Thisplace in London was not a safe one. Police had long lost power over the generalpopulation but they had yet to realise it. Adolescents roamed the streets, findingnothing to do but sulk in musty corners. Nice people didn't exist here. Niceweather didn't exist here. Happiness was crushed the minute anyone arrived.Home after an hour, she took off her wet shoes and headed straight in to thebathroom. She stepped into the shower, still fully clothed, and let the hot watercreate a reaction to the cold rain on her skin. Standing still and letting therain wash away the mud from her legs, she thought about her day. After some timeshe stepped out, peeled off her wet running gear and got dressed for work. Sheblow-dried her hair, applied her make-up, re-painted her toenails and slipped onsome high shoes. Dressed in a smart skirt suit and crisp white linen shirt, shemade her way back out the front door. She raised her umbrella. She had become adifferent person now. She actually had a name, a purpose, and a job.Eventually she stepped into the offices of Straater & Straater Accountancy. Itwas her third job in three years, and she was used to the repetition of it. As apersonal assistant, her career involved making sure the big bosses had everythingthey needed to run their big company and make their big money. Her current bosswas Gregorovich Straater. Part Slavic, part Polish, he and his brother ran a veryeffective accountancy firm, dealing in billions of pounds worth of transactionsevery year. They had respect from many wealthy people, and their wage slipsreflected this.That was when Andrew James looked up. His face was blank until he saw hers. Hesmiled, showing off each of his perfect teeth."Hey," she said softly."Hi,""All set for tonight?""I am. Are you?"She was getting sick of the pointless conversation they were having, and she knewthat each moment she stood in the foyer meant one less moment where she could bedoing her job. She regretted her politeness."Yes, yes I am. But now," she stopped smiling, "I have to go."He stopped smiling too, and it was as if the past conversation, and all thehistory between them, had evaporated with her last four words.She took a step backwards and headed towards the lift. She wished that the liftwas already there so she didn't have to wait, feeling his eyes boring into her
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