French

1

"Have a good evening sir!" I call to the last customer that evening, before closing the shop and heading to the back to finish cleaning today's dishes and to start preparing for tomorrow.

Having finished cleaning and put away tomorrow's cakes I remove my apron and puts on my coat and scarf. I grab my bag, scan the café once more, before turning the lights off and locking the front door.

As I turn around, I bump into a hard body. They guy is tall and well built. His hair is lovely and messy, his jawline is well defined and his cheekbones high. The most gorgeous thing about him though, are his startling blue eyes. They are icy, with a tinge of grey near the pupils.

I realize I've been staring, and look down, most likely blushing profusely. "Sorry."

"No worries," he replies, "it was all my fault."

Even his voice is gorgeous.

We remain standing close together for a few more silent seconds, before I hastily clear my throat.

"Well, sorry again." I say awkwardly, before attempting to walk past him.

He grabs my elbow, halting my steps. "Wait. What's your name?"

I stare at him a second more before replying, "Adalie."

He smiles breathtakingly. "I'm Atticus."

"Uh, nice to meet you. I really gotta go though, so, nice to meet you, bye."

I really don't actually have to go. Why am I so awkward.

Before he can reply, I hurry away. I feel like he's watching me walk away, even though I'm sure he's not, and I force myself not to turn back to see his eyes one more time. He wouldn't like a plain girl like me, not when he looks like an actual angel. 

I turn down the next road, my mind elsewhere. To stop myself from thinking about Atticus, I decide to go start on a new painting at home. Like I do most nights, but I enjoy it. I do. But, it would be nice to have some excitement in my life. I used to have so much fun at home. I always I knew I would leave home to pursue my dreams of starting my own business, and that I wouldn't be happy with my life until then, but at least I had some fun at home. I can't help but feel these days that I would be happier if I'd never left.

I love England, I love my apartment, I love my coffee shop that I have worked so hard for- but my life lacks something. 

I realise that somehow I've successfully made it back to my apartment, despite my mind being elsewhere. I guess that's what happens when you walk the same route to and from work daily without fail.  

A few hours later, after another quiet, uneventful evening, I fall into bed. Staring at the ceiling in the dark, my mind wanders back to my split second encounter with that gorgeous stranger. I'm sure I'll never see him again, but it has got me thinking. I love my life, but I need to make friends here, get out and have adventures. With some friends around me, and maybe a someone special eventually, my life would just be perfect. I find myself getting excited at the idea. I know this will be the right thing to do, and with that thought I fall into a deep sleep.