05/02/08

She smelled of cheap perfume and sweat. The sickly sweet kind, with the sour, decadent odour of real, human sweat. It filled the air around her, causing people to wrinkle their noses as she hurriedly elbowed them out of her way. This was not her time. Her black purse noisily clanged against its metal strap as her heels clattered to the rhythm she walked to. She looked around once, twice, decided something, shook her head and hurried on. She paused by a corner tea shop, glanced at the surprisingly expensive looking watch on her wrist and turned the corner.