...and they were roommates draft 2

I preferred a quiet life. One with little happening and a consistent routine. I woke up at 8am, ate a bowl of porridge, took a shower, and headed out the door to work. After an hour or so in the office, the staccato rhythm of the clock would eventually fade into the background. Most days I became consumed by crunching numbers. I'm good at it. My forte if you will. 

When I saw her for the first time, it was the dead of winter. The air pierced my nostrils as I stepped out of the office to make my way home. The company has one of those concrete office buildings they erected everywhere in the sixties. Ghastly things. Juxtaposed to that building was a charming Tudor cottage. It was going into disrepair but an investor transformed it into the local coffee hub for housewives with too much time on their hands. Sat in the window, latte in her hands, was one of the most exquisite women I'd ever seen. Maria. 


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