Plug in Baby

"Oi! Azri! Get yer lazy bum outta bed!" Symon screamed in my ear.

"Bugger off!" I groaned, rolling over in my bed. "It's only six. I can sleep a little longer," I mumbled sleepily into my pillow.

"Oh no yeh don't!" he laughed, flipping the mattress to its left side and causing me to fall onto the floor.

"Fuckin' dick," I groaned painfully from the ground.

"It's not nice to call meh names now," he pouted.

"Well it's not nice to flip me out of bed either!" I argued.

"Yer alarm was 'bout ta go off anyway. I just figured I'd jump start yer day a little early is all," he chuckled.

"Why you up so early on a Friday anyway?" I asked curiously.

"I got class," he chuckled before dropping my mattress back onto the bed frame. "Tara," he grinned as he exited my room.

"Tara," I muttered bitterly, though he was long gone from my line of sight.

I pulled myself off the bedroom floor and hurriedly made my bed before wandering across the hall to the bathroom I shared with Symon. The air was still thick with warm humidity from Symon's shower before. The mirror was also fogged as evidence to his shower beforehand. I turned on the warm water, hoping he left me some, and walked over to the small closet, pulling a clean dry towel from it and placing it on the counter. I grabbed my toothbrush and put some paste onto it, sticking it in my mouth and letting it hang lazily as I shut the bathroom door, flipping the lock. I grabbed it and began scrubbing my teeth ferociously, wanting the morning breath to be killed.

After that, I rinsed my mouth and stripped off my clothes before stepping into the warm shower. The water fell over my small body, the temperature of the water turning my ivory colored skin to turn pink underneath the bevy of freckles that covered my body. I wet my hair, running my slender fingers through the thick mane before grabbing the bottle of mint shampoo and squeezing some of the gel into my palm, rubbing my hands together and applying it to my hair. I thoroughly scrubbed my scalp with my fingers, feeling the shampoo turn to lather instantly. After about three minutes of scrubbing, I rinsed it out.

I grabbed the matching scented conditioner and applied it to my hair as well, letting it sit while I scrubbed my face and washed my body with jasmine shower gel. Once I had washed away the soap from my skin, I stuck my head back underneath the cooling water, quickly rinsing out the conditioner. I could feel my shower coming to an end as the water turned colder by the second. Luckily for me, I finished rinsing my thick hair and shut off the water before the water turned to freezing temperatures.

I stepped out of the shower and grabbed the towel from counter and using it to squeeze most of the water out of my hair. Once that was done, I wrapped it around my tiny frame, tucking in the end near my right bosom and scooping up my pajamas. I unlocked the door and wandered across the hall, back into my small bedroom and shutting the door behind me.

Right as I walked in, my alarm clock went off, playing whatever song had been playing on my iPod before. I turned down the volume of it and let it continue to play as I tossed my clothes into the hamper. I wandered to the window to check the weather, carefully stepping around my art supplies that were lying carelessly on the floor. I opened the window, immediately regretting it as a chilly wind blew through my room.

"Fuck! It's cold!" I gasped, quickly shutting the window. The skies were still overcast and grey, signaling more rain on the horizon as the trees dances in the breeze. "I guess I'll wear layers today," I mumbled to myself as I walked towards my dresser.

I pulled open the top drawer, pulling out a pair of pink boy briefs and a matching pink bra before shutting it. I removed my towel from my body, quickly putting on my undergarments before grabbing a thick pair of black socks and pulling them on my cold, bare feet. I found a pair of blue skinny jeans in the drawer and pulled them up over my legs. I searched for a shirt in another drawer; needing to find some ratty t-shirt I didn't mind getting dirty. Finally, I found a black Clash shirt full of holes in the sleeves.

'This will do," I thought to myself as I pulled it on.

It was a little bigger and longer on me, since it originally belonged to Symon but it would do fine when I was cleaning around the messy house. I tied it up in the back so it was more fitted against my thin body. I grabbed my studded belt from the closet and looping it through my jeans, fastening it properly. I reached inside the closet and pulled out a black small black sweatshirt, pulling it on as well. I grabbed red and white scarf and my black pea coat from the closet as well, laying them out on my bed before wandering into the bathroom once again.

I grabbed a frizz controlling spray and applied it to my hair, using my hands to scrunch my damp hair so the curls would stay intact. I wiped the fog off the mirror with my hand before applying the usual makeup to my face. I lined my eyes lightly with black eye liner and put a touch of mascara on as well, deciding that I didn't need to go beyond that today. I grabbed my hair dryer and quickly dried my hair so I wouldn't freeze when I walked out of the apartment. It was slightly damp on top of my scalp but the curls were still hanging loosely around my face. I smiled at myself before shutting off the light and scampering out of the bathroom.

"Mornin'," Owen smiled, emerging from the bedroom at the end of the hall.

He was wearing a pair of red plaid pajama bottoms that loosely hung from his hips and nothing else. I glanced over his well-sculpted body quickly, admiring his nicely toned muscles on his chest and arms. Lucy was a very lucky girl to wake up to that nice body every day.

I looked up to his sleepy face, watching him yawn and rub the back of his neck with his hand. His brown eyes were droopy as if he were about to collapse and sleep in the hall. He wore a sleepy grin on his face, causing me to smile back at him.

"Morning Owen," I nodded.

"You headin' off ta work?" he questioned stopping near me in the hall.

"Soon. I just need to grab my coat, iPod and, and bag and I'll be out of your hair," I laughed.

"I get the entire flat ta myself today. I have no clue what I'll do with myself though," he chuckled.

"I'm sure you'll catch more sleep," I replied, stepping into my room for my coat.

"Did you want a ride ta work?" he questioned, leaning against the doorframe.

"Oh no, that's ok. I can just take the tube," I said, shaking my head. "Thanks for the offer though. It's nice of you."

"It's not like I can sleep anymore. Usually I'm dashing out of the flat at this time for work anyway," Owen shrugged.

"What about Lucy? She could probably use a lift," I suggested.

"Yeah but she doesn't go in until eight. I'm just waiting on her," he sighed dramatically.

"Poor pathetic you," I said sarcastically, wrapping the scarf around my neck.

"Oh, do you have the address of the house I'm picking you up from later?" he as he stopped himself from walking away from my doorway.

I nodded, "I'll text it to you later. I need to be off now," I told him, grabbing my iPod off the dock and unplugging the phone. He nodded and disappeared into the next room as I shoved my phone into my black bag and threw it over my shoulder, walking towards the front room. "Laters!"I shouted to him with a wave.

"Have a good time cleaning!" he chuckled.

I slipped on my ratty black and purple DC shoes and walked out of the apartment, shoving my ear buds in once again and pressing 'play' on my iPod. The Strokes began playing loudly through the speakers as I nodded happily along. I got to the street, feeling the cold instantly hit me once again like it had the other day.

It was early still and I desperately needed some coffee so I walked the many blocks to the closet Starbucks near the metro station, ordering a lemon scone and a hot cup of coffee before walking towards the station. The foggy streets were crowded this morning as I carefully pushed through the different business men and women chatting away on their telephones. It seemed that everyone else needed to get to the metro as well. At least it was Friday, meaning one more day before everyone with a regular nine to five had a chance to relax for the weekend.

I waited around the station for ten minutes, munching eagerly on my delicious pastry and sipping the warm, strongly flavored, brown liquid, nodding my head along to the indie rock that flowed through the headphones at a loud volume. I suddenly wished I had my sketch pad with me. I felt the sudden urge to draw but had nothing to draw with. I sighed, watching the different business men pass by, talking on their portable phones and carrying their expensive briefcases.

One of the things I disliked about waiting for trains was how anxious I was to draw. There would always be something I would spot that would inspire a burst of creative energy. I desperately wanted to find some writing utensil and begin to draw whatever it was that inspired me.

Currently, I was studying a young college student with a bright orange Mohawk and multiple piercings in his face. He was dressed in a pair of red plaid pants that were tight against his boney body and a black jacket covered in miscellaneous patched and lined with metal studs. He was peculiar standing in the metro station, leaning against a walk with head phones on, presumably listening to some form of punk music. The business men passing by did double takes as they passed by, unsure of what they had really seen.

I suddenly wished I had time to draw him. I should have brought my material but I didn't. I was stuck on the wooden bench in the station, watching from across the tracks as he nodded his head along slightly, a blank look on his face and eyes scanning the different people around him. He was definitely fascinating because he seemed to be out of his element, the only declared individual in a conventional world. That was the concept I had developed in my head for a painting.

The train whizzed by, stopping directly in front of me and cutting off my view of my subject as the speakers overhead announced that it was the Central Line I had been waiting for. Frowning from the sudden distraction of my thoughts, I stood, gathering my coffee cup and tossing the now empty pastry bag into the trash bin, walking towards the train. I pushed through the different people that were also walking to the train and found a seat near the window.

I took out my lime green iPod and started flipping through the hoard of artists in the library, needing a change of pace. I found Coldplay, deciding that Chris Martin's soothing falsetto and lovely lyrics perfect for the early morning and pressed 'play', immediately hearing the famous piano intro to their hit song 'Clocks' playing loudly through my earphones. When I heard his lovely gentle voice begin to sing, I smiled to myself at my choice in music for the ride in the tube.

I rested my sleepy head against the window of the train, my forehead growing slightly cold from the chilled glass as I slipped my iPod back into my coat pocket. I held my coffee cup in between my hands, feeling the warmth flow through me a bit as I watched the lights flicker inside the tube. The peaceful sounds of the piano playing through the headphones were lulling me back into a sleepy state, which wasn't so surprising to me. Something about a piano melody always put me into a state of exhaustion. I took another sip of my coffee, trying to fight the sleep that was coming fast.

For the next twenty minutes, I was fighting sleep. The train ride had been sufficiently boring and I found myself struggling to get up when the Notting Hill Gate stop came up. I made my way through the few people that were exiting the station and up the steps to where I had been on Wednesday afternoon. The buildings were masked a bit by the thin layer of fog that hung in the air, trapping the cold air that hit my face as I walked along. I looked up at the grey sky, seeing puffy clouds coating the sky. I was thankful that it hadn't started raining yet today since I left the umbrella back at my flat.

I started to make my way towards the little house with the red door, yawning as the effects of my exhaustion melted away. I jauntily walked along to the beat of the music, nodding my head along as I passed by the different familiar buildings on my route to the house. The effects of the caffeine from my early Starbucks run were kicking in finally as I quickly shuffled along on the sidewalk towards this mysterious person's house.

I found it a little peculiar that I was hired to clean the house for someone else. This Matt character obviously needed some kind of help in tidying up, due to the state of his home, but it made me wonder if he often kept it looking like that or if there was some kind of event that took place, like an earthquake or a bomb detonation that would cause such a disaster. I wondered about his life suddenly, questioning what he was doing right now as I walked to his home. He sparked my interest because out of all the homes I've seen over my four years of cleaning London houses, his was the worst mess by far.

After a long ten minute walk, I found myself in the charming little neighborhood, seeing that it was very still this morning. A lot of the cars were missing from the streets and the lights in the windows were shut off, possibly signaling either the residents of these homes had stepped out or were still enjoying their slumber. I envied them if they were sleeping. I wish I could spend my Friday, the one other day aside from Sundays and Wednesdays were I was free of evening classes. I missed sleeping in like I used to in high school.

I approached the red door, digging around in my purse for my set of keys and finding them on the bottom of the bag, as they usually were. For some reason, keys were always floating about in the purse but when they needed to be discovered, they were always located at the bottom of everything. I wondered how I hadn't lost them.

I stuck the key with 'F' marked on it into the lock, turning it and pressing the door open. I walked into the house, taking out my key and shutting the door behind me as I surveyed the familiar disaster zone I had seen two days ago. It was worse than I had remembered now that I realized I needed to complete all this work in one day. I was looking at working straight through to the late evening. I only hoped that Owen wouldn't be out getting sloshed tonight so he could come and get me when I was through here.

I took off my coat and sweatshirt, placing them in the small closet near the door while setting my purse on the ground. I pulled a hair tie from my bag and gathered up all my hair into a high ponytail on top of my head, roping the elastic band around several times. I tugged on it a bit, tightening the ponytail and sighing as I flipped on the light.

"I guess I'll start top to bottom," I muttered to myself.

I walked down the light blue hallway to the stairs, carefully climbing them as I decided to start in the bedroom. I figured that I might as well wash the laundry, since his main problem in there seemed to be clothing spread across the floor. I turned my iPod on shuffle, hearing different music begin to play through the headphones as I opened the bedroom door.

I spend most of my time gathering the clothes up in the bed sheets, trying my best to collect them all into one bundle for one trip upstairs. It took about ten minutes to collect all of the dirty things off the floor of the bedroom and the bathroom. I folded the ends together so that I could scoop the entire mound of fabric into my arms and attempted walking down the stairs. That proved to be difficult since this pile of clothing and bed sheets was wider than I had anticipated.

I made down the stairs without falling and wandered down the narrow hallway one door over from the front room, pushing it open with my feet and dropping the pile of stuff ground, huffing breathlessly from the perilous journey. I opened the lid to the washing machine and turned on the cold water, scooping some detergent with the little florescent orange scooper in the bin. I pulled the bed sheets out, figuring it would be easier to wash big items first and tossed them into the washer, shutting the lid and wandering out of the room to collect the clothing items from the downstairs portion of the house.

In half an hour, I had found all of the clothing items to be washed and sorted them into designated piles: whites, black, colors, towels, and jeans. Once I finished that task, I started collecting different cleaning materials in a dirty towel I set aside for this particular occasion. I decided when I was sorting through the dirty garments that towels would be the last load I did today.

I carried all the cleaning products back up the stairs and headed into the bedroom, seeing that it was a little cleaner now that I had rid the floor of the clutter. I started organizing everything else as best as I could, moving the few DVD cases he had in here onto the bare bed as well as the papers that were scattered about. I glanced through them, trying to decide how to organize them but quickly gave that up as soon as I read through the first few, realizing that it was rubbish. I just organized them into a neat pile and set them aside.

I dusted all the furniture and polished and cleaned the windows, seeing them glimmer in the light from the bedroom reflecting off them. I smiled a little, liking the idea of seeing my reflection in the window. That was the test to see how clean it actually was. If I could see my mess of red curls then I knew that it was clean enough. I grabbed the broom and dustpan I had carried up the stairs with me and started sweeping the wood floor, noticing a fair amount of dirt and dust hidden in the corners of the bedroom.

It took two and a half of straightening up, with only two interruptions to change loads in the washing machine and dryer, to get the room looking neat and organized. The floors were polished as well as the furniture while the papers were neatly stacked on the desk near his closet. I organized the DVDs and dusted the television screen. The whole room was trash free and smelled of that lovely lemony smell that most furniture polish had, which was a lot better than that horrible dingy smell from before. The bed was now made with fresh, crisp white sheets and the black comforter over the top of it. I turned it down, making it ready for sleep as soon as the man who lived here returned home.

I moved onto the bathroom next, making a face at the thought of scrubbing out the tub and the shower. The one thing I hated about cleaning bathrooms was how incredibly unclean I felt afterwards. There was something about other people's bathrooms that seemed slightly forbidden to me but I guess it was something that I had to get over. In my time spent cleaning houses, the families I worked for always expected me to clean their bathrooms. It was something that I got over, leaving me to feel unclean for the rest of the day.

I scrubbed out the dirty toilet, making the porcelain shine brightly in the light. Then, I sprayed some Scrubbing Bubbles, which made me smile since it was my favorite thing to clean with, in the tub and the shower; letting it sit there for a while I attacked the cluttered counters. I cleared them off first, scrubbing the dirt and grime off the marble with my scrub brush. Once they were clean, I wiped them off with my dirty towel and started putting the different products neatly back on the counters. I cleaned the dirty mirror over the sparkling counters, leaving it streak free and looking gorgeous. I wandered over to the bathtub and spent a good ten minutes scrubbing it out before it looked pristine as it should've.

After another hour or so of scrubbing, sterilizing, and organizing everything in that massive room, the bathroom was declared clean and I headed downstairs to change loads once again. I grabbed the pile of white clothing from the dryer and put it in a laundry basket that I found in the closet, never before used. I brought the basket to the bedroom once again, dumping all the clothing out of it and onto the freshly made bed as I began folding. Since I wasn't sure where I was supposed to put these items, I left neat piles on the end of the bed so he would be able to put them away himself; Shirts on the far left corner of the bed, then pants and socks, and then finally boxer briefs.

I took the basket and wandered back downstairs to decide on another area of the house to pick up. I figured that since I had just cleaned the first bathroom, I should clean the other as well before starting anything else. I walked to the small downstairs bathroom and looked inside, sighing loudly when I saw what a mess that one had been as well.

"God, how does someone live like this?" I questioned aloud.

Metaphorically rolling up my sleeves to prepare myself for such a job, I got to work. I spent another hour and a half in that tiny room, trying to get rid of all the dirt particles that covered the white porcelain sink and toilet bowl. I wondered if people who visited this mystery man used the bathroom here or if they waited until they left. I couldn't imagine wanting to use this room after seeing the state it had been left in. I felt like I could've caught a disease just walking into it. At least now, people won't fear such a small room.

Emerging from the tiny bathroom, I felt myself growing hungry. I figured there would be no decent food in the house so I walked over to my purse, digging out my cell phone and ordering some Chinese takeout. I had been craving it since I walked into this house two days ago, seeing the different containers lying about. Though I knew that the food left in those containers was probably detestable by now, the idea of chow mien sounded delicious.

I figured the safest course of action was dusting the stairway, coming to the conclusion that I would lose my appetite if I attempted to tackle the kitchen or the front room, and also, folding the two loads of laundry that awaited me on the bed. I flipped through the artists on my iPod, settling on Beck to listen to while I cleaned. I took the feather duster I had and worked my way upstairs, cleaning off the banisters and the plaques hanging up on the walls. I never did bother looking at them too closely, finding myself too distracted by the infectious beat flowing through my headphones, causing me to wiggle my body along.

After about ten minutes of dusting everything in the stairway off, I tucked the feather duster into my back pocket, feeling the feathers brushing against my back as I walked into the room. This time, I had two loads of laundry to fold: blacks and coloreds. I pulled folded all the shirts and pants, putting them into their respective piles on the bed. I started pairing the multicolored socks when I felt my phone buzzing in my back pocket. I pulled out one of the ear buds and looked at the Caller ID, seeing Symon was calling me.

I hit the green button to answer it and held the electronic device to my ear.

"Hello Symon," I smiled.

"Why 'ello darlin'," he laughed. "How's the work at that bloke's house goin'?" he asked.

"So far so good," I sighed. "I've done three loads of laundry, cleaned two bathrooms and his bedroom all before one so I'm feeling pretty damn good about this."

"Jeez, do yeh eva stop to rest?"

"Nope. I find that resting is useless when I'm in my zone."

"Maybe I need to recruit yeh ta clean me room at home," he chuckled.

"Sy, you know you can't afford me," I replied.

"Well, I guess that's right," he sighed. "But there was a reason I called. I was wonderin' what yeh were doin' for Bradys?"

"What?" I laughed, unsure what he was talking about.

"Lunch?" he said as if it were obvious.

"Jeez, you know that I'm not one hundred percent sure of the shit you say when you start that Cockney rhyming crap."

"Yer just not as lemon as I am love," he chuckled.

"Hey! No need to make fun! Well, I already ordered myself some Chinese," I laughed, thinking about the inspiration behind it. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh, I figured I would deliver yeh some nosh if yeh wanted somefin' but I guess not," he said. "What time yeh gettin' off tonight?"

"Depends on how long work takes here," I replied.

"Well, if yer off early, there's this Todd that everyone's plannin' on goin' ta scrapa flow ta if yeh wanna join," he said.

"Damn your rhyming," I sighed.

"Yeh know I'm just messin' wif yeh. It's so easy ta confuse ya yanks wif our slang," he laughed.

"Jerk," I mumbled. "And as to the party you want me to go to, I doubt I'll be able to go. I'm already getting a little tired cleaning this guy's place and I know that it's just gonna get worse later."

"Yeh sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. You all go and have a good time."

"Owen said he'd still get yeh aft'wards," he said.

"Alright," I smiled as the doorbell rang. "Look Sy, my food just got here so I gotta go."

"Right love. I'll talk to yeh later, yeah?"

"Yeah. Laters," I said.

"Alligator," he replied, hanging up the phone.

"Crazy Cockney Brit," I said to myself, laughing a bit.

I made my way back down the stairs and answered the door, seeing the teenage Asian kid at the door with my takeout order. I grabbed my bag and produced my wallet, handing him the money in exchange for my two egg rolls and large order of chicken fried rice and chicken chow mien. I thanked him and shut the door behind me, heading to the couch, where it seemed to be cleanest and set the food on the table.

I saw a remote on the coffee table and figured it was for the television set that was hanging on the wall so I picked it up and pressed the 'power' button to turn it on. Instantly, the Discovery Channel popped up, meaning that this Matt fellow had cable. I started flipping through the countless channels, soon settling on the Disney channel when I saw that 'Mary Poppins', my favorite Disney movie from my childhood, was on. I set the remote back down, humming along to the 'Jolly Holiday' song as I opened my box of chow mien.

I nodded my head from side to side while I shoveled the noodles into my mouth with my pair of chopsticks, singing along a bit with the song with a full mouth. My voice was muffled but I didn't care. This was one of my favorite songs from the movie, tied with 'Step in Time'. No matter how many times I watched this movie, it never grew old. Even now as an adult, I still watched it and enjoyed it as much as I had when I was a little girl. It was one of those timeless Disney classics that I would never get sick of.

I wound up eating half of the food and watching the rest of the movie, deciding that it would be my rest of the time being. I closed up the takeout boxes and found myself singing 'Let's Go Fly a Kite' to myself as I wandered into the kitchen in order to tackle the next room in need of cleaning. I set my boxes aside for later and put my headphones back in, hearing Beck once again as I surveyed the kitchen for my first task. Seeing that the sink was practically overflowing with dirty dishes, I decided that clearing them would be my first task.

Before I knew it, it was already seven o'clock and every room in the house was clean, except for one. I left the "inspiration" room for last since it was far worse than the other rooms and frequented more. I dragged a trash bag I had been using in the front room with me, flipping on the light in the tope room and sighing at the trash. I let my eyes wander towards the piano and figured that I would leave that beautiful instrument for last, seeing that it was the easiest thing to clean in the room.

I started grabbing all the takeout boxes and tossing them into the bag with the other rubbish that was in there from the house. For some reason, this house seemed to be the endless supply of carryout boxes. Right when I thought I had found the last one, another one appeared out of thin air to torment my soul. Luckily for me, there weren't bugs in any of them. He was a very lucky man to not have received ants or any other kind of insect. I drew the line at dealing with insects.

I started cleaning the windows, making sure that they were streak free again and looking brand new. After that, I started cleaning out the fireplace, sweeping out the ashes into my handy trash bag. Now that this room was free of clutter and trash, it was looking rather respectable. I had taken all the loose papers I found scattered around the room, noticing that they were mostly pages of what looked like poems and piano music and added them to the large piles of papers underneath the window. I wasn't sure what was trash or not amongst them so I figured that would be something he could sort out for himself. I had already spend two hours cleaning and organizing the clutter so I didn't feel the need to spend more time deciphering what was to be kept and what should have been thrown out.

I dusted the mantle of the fireplace with the feather duster I still had handy as well as the other furniture that had yet to be touched until I realized I had one thing left to do. I took my phone out of my pocket, seeing that the time was now 9:15 in the evening. It was late, in the sense that my days usually ended at around five in the early evening or so. I flipped open the phone and began texting Owen, telling him that I was ready to leave and giving him the address of the house so he could come and get me. Once that was done, I shoved my phone back into my pocket and smiled, looking over at the one thing I had left to do in this house before it was declared completely clean.

Finally I made my way to the beautiful black piano that sat so elegantly underneath the tiny window in the far corner of the room. I approached it slowly, lightly allowing my fingers to graze the smooth wood, picking up some light dust on my fingertips.

There was something about pianos that I loved more than any other instrument. I guess it had to do with the man across the hall from our apartment in San Francisco who was teaching me to play. He was a younger guy, around twenty or so, willing to teach a dumb seven year old the basics of piano playing. I was very attentive of everything he taught me, remembering his metaphor of treating the piano the way one would treat a lady, gently and passionately. It took time for me to figure out what his innuendo actually meant in his metaphor but at seven, I didn't know any better.

When I got older, I kept up with my piano playing, unable to find a will to stop. I loved the sounds it made. Pianos could be so expressive in their vast range of emotions the keys produced. I could slam my hands down and hear aggression or lightly let my fingers float along the keys and hear childhood lullabies that inspired exhaustion. I always held a deep respect for pianos, which is why I was willing to overlook the amount of catastrophe in this house. Whoever the slob was that lived here had the decency to take care of such a fine instrument.

I began dusting the black wood, seeing it shine in the light as the dust cleared its surface. It only took fifteen minutes to rid the piano of all its dust, allowing it to glow in the room with great pride as it was now, the center of attention. I found myself smiling as I looked at it, seeing my reflection in the wood's glossy shine against the light in the room. I looked like a mess compared to the lovely black beauty before me. I almost felt rather embarrassed in its presence, causing me to laugh a bit at how preposterous that though sounded.

I took a seat on the bench, the legs lightly scraping against the wood floor as I pulled it away from the piano. I took one of my ear buds out so I could hear myself properly. I set my fingers on the keys, pressing down on one of them and hearing a rather glorious sound. Surprisingly, the piano was still in tune. I smiled to myself as I took my hands away from the keys, pulling my iPod out of my pocket and fiddling with it for a moment. I started scanning through the artists, trying to find the one I needed to hear that moment. I found the song and hit 'play' my fingers instantaneously flying to the ivory keys and playing along.

I could hear the ease with which I remembered the chords, letting the music pour out of me as I shut my eyes. It was one of my favorite Something Corporate songs since the piano intro was so well-crafted. It worked on a multitude of emotional levels and I loved it for that. The verses were softer usually, almost quiet and whispery while the choruses were full of life, bursting with emotion. It was one song I learned to master expertly in my time here in London on the rainy days. I just shut my eyes and let the song fill me up completely.

"Let's get drunk. You can drive us to the harbor. Wish upon a star but do you know what stars are? Balls of fire, burning up the black space, falling from the landscape, exploding in the face of God," I sang quietly along with the song as I let my fingers glide along the keys effortlessly.

The sounds of the piano were so peaceful. I almost felt at home sitting on the bench of this black wooden box of keys. There was something about pianos that just calmed me down in a good way. The fact that I could sit here and use this piano as a way to decompress from my day a bit was rather relaxing. Working in this house was complete murder but now that I had finished, I felt a sense of accomplishment in how I've made it look. I was rather proud of myself so I figured I owed myself the extra treat of sitting at this lovely piano.

"Let's get crazy, talk about our big plans; places that you're going, places that I haven't been. Build my walls up, concrete castle; keep this kingdom free of hassle, yeah, yeah, yeah," I continued, building up to the chorus. I felt my fingers crash harshly with the ivory keys, desperately putting as much emotion into the chorus as I could. "I hear sound echo in the emptiness all around but you can't change this loneliness. Look what you've found, I've fallen down," I sang loudly, allowing the piano to become soft again before trailing off a bit.

I stopped playing, opening my eyes once again and smiling to myself in satisfaction. It felt so good to play a piano once again that I craved more of it. I remembered the music sheets I had found lying around the room and hurriedly walked over to the pile, flipping through them carefully for anything that caught my attention. There were many different variations of similar songs that I was feeling rather confused about which one would be the best one to play. Again and again, the same names would appear at the top of the music sheets with only a few tweaks in the actual music itself.

Finally, I found a song that looked promising.

"New Born," I read aloud to myself.

On the top of the sheet, the title was written in messy hand writing as well as "final version" in the top right hand corner, so it seemed like my best bet for actually playing a complete song. I took the sheet with me, walking back over to the piano and taking my seat once again. I set the sheet of music on the stand in front of me above the keys and shut off my iPod. I tucked the powerless device back in my pocket once again and took the earphones out, wrapping them around the back of my neck so they were just dangling lifelessly and out of my way.

I carefully positioned my fingers on the correct keys, reading the sheet of music carefully before actually playing. I took a deep breath and let it out, shutting my eyes once more before launching into the song. My fingers were gliding over the keys in an expert manner as the fast paced melody rang loudly in my ears. Layer upon layer was added, making this particular piece feel complex in its short lifespan. There wasn't much of this intriguing piece of music but the small piece that was there was very captivating. I was so engrossed in playing the minute long piece that everything else seemed to fall away from me.

"Oi!" I heard a deep British voice shout over the music.

At the sound of the voice, I felt my body jump as I let out a shriek in astonishment. I smashed my fingers down on the piano keys, hitting all the incorrect notes to the piece and ruining the last bit of music I had left. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest from the shock as well as the blood rushing to my face, causing me to blush at the sudden interruption. It took me a moment before I got a hold of myself to turn around on the bench and look at the intruder of my wonderful decompression.

Standing in the doorway was perfection.

This perfection was a man of medium height and a very skinny body. He sort of reminded me of Symon in his body structure but with a little more muscle definition to him, since Symon looked like a male rock version of Kate Moss. This man before me had short black hair that seemed spiky in some places while it laid flat in others, looking slightly like he had run his hand through it one too many times. His ocean blue eyes were his most striking feature on his face, shining out against his pale skin. He was unshaven a bit, looking like he had gone a day or two without using the trusty razorblade and he had dark circles under his eyes, signaling that he was exhausted.

He was dressed rather odd, I thought as I gave his wardrobe a once over. He was wearing all black with the exception of his white shoes that drew attention to his feet. Along with the white shoes, he wore a pair of black track pants that had two white stripes going down the side of his leg at full length as well as tighter fitting black shirt underneath his heavy black coat that was buttoned up. He had a black scarf wrapped around his neck loosely, as if he had began to take his things off before discovering me in the room.

He stared at me incredulously; raising a single eyebrow in what I thought may be curiosity. We stood there silently, staring each other down with the same look on our faces. I had no idea who this stranger was or how he got into the house but I still had yet to regain a regular heartbeat from the shock of his entrance so I remained silent. His curiosity seemed to turn into frustration as the silence carried on, his facial features suddenly becoming harsh as his eyes blazed with anger.

"Who in the bloody hell are you?" he question in a raised voice.

"Me?" I asked quizzically, pointing to myself. "I should ask you that! How'd you get in here?" I asked defensively, now waving my finger to him.

"I live here! This is my house!" he shouted.

"Oh," I said in shock, my eyes going wide at the newfound information.

He was the slob that lived here. He wasn't supposed to be here until tomorrow though. Anthony told me that he wanted me here today because this man's flight was supposed to come in the next day. I looked at him again and realized that he didn't look angry anymore, rather disgruntled.

"Oh God, now you know who I am, don't you?" he asked in a voice of dread. "Look, there's nothin' interesting here and I just got home from tour so you might as well just leave now before I call the police," he said, pulling off his scarf.

"What are you talking about?" I asked feeling confused about what he had just said.

"I know you've gone through a lot of trouble to break in here and you must have come a long way, since you're an American but I've got nothin' here for you to steal. I'm sorry to disappoint but I'm just a regular bloke with nothin' fancy to take as a souvenir," he told me, slightly raising his voice again.

"You think I'm trying to steal something from you?" I asked in offense.

"You fuckin' broke into my house and were sittin' at my piano playin' my music! Normally I wouldn't yell at fans or anything but this is crossin' the bloody line! I just got home from a long tour and all I want to do is rest but I come here and find an intruder!" he yelled, pointing an accusing finger at me.

"I have no fucking idea what you're babbling about but I can assure you that I'm outta here," I said, feeling anger arising from his accusations.

I stomped out of the room, heading straight for the closet to put on my sweatshirt and coat once again. I aggressively wrapped my scarf around my neck and grabbed my bag that had been sitting near the door. I glanced up at the man in the hallway, seeing his curious eyes watching me as I continued rifling through the huge bag of mine.

I finally found the set of keys and began to remove the key marked 'F' from the ring, trembling a bit from anger. How dare he accuse me of something like that! All I did was slave through most of the day, working myself to the bone to make his house look nice for his return home and now he was accusing me of stealing and stalking? It was so infuriating! I finally got the key off the ring and threw it at him, watching it as it bounced off his chest and onto the wooden floor in front of him. He looked at me with wide eyes, obviously shocked with my actions.

"I had a key and was hired to come here you fucking asshole! Next time, show some appreciation for people who spent all day to make this place you call home look nice for a change!" I shouted, throwing my bag over my shoulder and turning my heel.

I stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind me and not caring if I had just made myself look like more of a lunatic than before. I spent so much time making the place look nice for him because his manager asked me to and he had the audacity to say that I was some crazed stalker thief, even though I had no idea who he was. It took a lot for me to become angry but this man really did push my buttons for his faulty assumptions.

I started stomping down the street at a quick pace, the exercise actually calming my nerves a bit as I walked along in the cold night air. The neighborhood was quiet again, few lights on in the windows of this neighborhood. I guess at this hour, it was expected. It was almost ten and I figured that the only people living in this neighborhood were older couples who could afford houses, with the exception of the arrogant asshole who I just walked out on.

Just thinking about him was maddening! I couldn't get over his quick assumptions about me and who I was when in reality, I had absolutely no clue who he was. At this rate, I would love to find a different person to fill my Friday slots. I didn't want to see that stupid,attractive infuriating male again.

I decided that tomorrow I would collect my wages from Anthony and be able to forget all about this day. That man with the electric blue eyes would only become a quick fading memory in my mind.