Chapter 2

He had made her breakfast, as he always did, coffee, toast and the bowl of 

muesli she could not start her day without. He leered at her, longingly, lovingly, 

this was his definition of beauty, her lenghty black hair and the way it grazed her 

shoulders, oh her shoulders, that was where the true essence of a woman's 

beauty lives, not in her breasts or her buttocks, but in her shoulders, with their 

sturdy and curvy demeanour, a junction that held pleasure at either end. He 

smiled to himself as he inhaled her greatness and exhaled sighs of jubilation and 

promise. Oh how he loved her. He couldn't restrain himself from telling anyone who would 

listen to how amazing she was, how she was simply the best thing to occur in his 

life. Ever.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP BEEP! The snaring overtones of her alarm clock 

overpowered his thoughts. He watched as the corpse-like figurine inbetween his 

sheets squinted and let out grunts of unease, slowly showing signs of life.

"6:40 already?" she yawned. She rubbed her eyes and sat upright, legs akimbo, 

making her presence felt at all corners of the bed, her eyes fixated on him, his 

smile, his willingness, his glow of child-like compliance and obedience.

"Mornin sleepyhead," he said, brimming with the joys this February morhing could 

offer. She stared at him, squinting, frowning.

"Do you have my breakfast?" 

"Oh yes," he said, remembering what it was he was he held in his hands. "It's a 

few minutes old but the coffee should still be hot and sweet, just like you."

"Gimme" she barked. With haste, he handed her the tray of nourishment then 

stepped back and resumed his place. "Wow," he thought even the way she eats 

is amazing, who knew eating muesli could take on a sensual yet god-like quality.

"Did you sleep ok?" he asked. "Only I know you were having trouble sleeping and 

I wanted to know how the new pillows and matress were..."

She looked up. While wolfing down the last of the muesli, her eyes met his, his 

eyes bursting with devotion and affection, her eyes full of contempt.

Silence.

She placed the tray onto the floor and sprang out of bed and began busying 

herself with the necessary regiments that would prepare her for a day at the 

office, all the while remaining silent.

The soundtrack of the world outside suddenly became audible. He noticed the 

the chirping of the birds, whom today seemed to belt a melancholy number, the 

distant rumble of trains and the silent cries from the communters on board, on 

their way to share carpet and teabags with people whom they neither love nor 

loathe, the sound of cars, the sound of people, the sound of life. This overture, 

with its banality and routine filled the room but was unable to topple the 

staggering silence. 

The city was officially awake now. The stains of a night well enjoyed were washed 

off the pavement. The sins of the city no longer hid in darkness, they no longer 

cowered in corners, they were apparent. The homeless slept in alleys, fermenting 

in their stench, litter sprawled across streets and avenues, mini-skirts and thongs 

were replaced by power suits and blouses, cocaine and alcohol were substituted 

for coffee and energy drinks, sexually charged banter between the young and the 

hip was gone, all that remained was silent stares in tube carriages, escapism 

came in the form of Ipods and Blackberrys, the bravado of the night before was 

hidden behind newspapers and supermarket approved literature, there were no 

friends, no lovers, just inhabitants, people unified by geogrpahy and divided by 

everything else. Yes, the civil disguise of the city was here.