I woke up twenty minutes ago and have been listening to the rain tapping on the window since then. The curtains are shut but I can see the shadow of the drops running down the glass and its managed to distract me from my thoughts for a while. Anyone would think me mad, most likely because I am.

Right now as I’m tying my hair up into a knot on the top of my head, I can hear the little girl next door dreaming. She is dreaming about her mum and dad being together again. They got divorced about a year ago but she still isn’t over it. Its a reoccurring dream. She used to have it more often but its only once a week now.

I make myself a mug of instant coffee, like I do every morning. As a pour the boiling water into my mug the steam wafts over my face giving my cheeks a rosy glow even through the layers of make-up I’ve just painted myself with.

After I finish transforming myself into someone who looks almost socially acceptable, I stuff everything I need in my bag and leave. I’m delayed slightly with the unlocking of the thirteen different locks I have on my front door. People say you walk past a murderer approximately thirty-six times in your life. Imagine if you could hear their thoughts. Thats why I have so many locks. The number thirteen? Its my favorite because everyone hates it.

I leave the warmth of my bottom floor flat and step out into the concrete jungle that is London. Although it has stopped raining the air is damp and I can feel the wet air soaking into my skin as I walk along the street.

Sometimes I wish I had died when I had my heart attack at sixty-five. I would rather that than struggling to even get my morning papers.

I turn round casually to see who the thought came from. The old woman walking behind me looks about eighty years old. She is walking with a stick in one hand and her sixteen year old granddaughter hanging onto her other hand making sure she doesn’t topple off balance. She has no clue what her grandmother is thinking. She actually thinks she is enjoying being out of the house for a bit. Everything being like it used to be. I veer off to the left and cross the road. I don’t want to hear anymore.

The office doesn’t open till nine yet I set off on my twenty minute walk every morning at seven fifteen. I could stay in the comfort of my bed another hour and take the tube and still be there half an hour early but I prefer it this way. The autumn air hits me in the face and wakes me up. Also the tube isn’t really an option for me. Sitting in a confined space filled with strangers with various odor problems is bad enough without hearing their thoughts at the same time.

As I stride along the pavement I keep my steps a steady rhythm. I listen to the heels of my black stilettos clicking off the pavement beneath my feet and try to block out the sound of the city awakening around me.

Before I know it I’ve completely zoned out from the world around me and crash into a thirty-something year old man. I apologize quickly and start walking away but he grabs my arm and spins me round pulling my body towards him. I know what he is thinking. He thinks I’m just some young helpless girl on an empty street, an easy target. I lock eyes with him and flash him a sly smile before sinking the heel of my stiletto into his foot and thrusting my opposite knee between his legs. He falls to the floor and I quickly cross the road.

I straighten out my dress and gather myself before continuing to walk along the pavement. Its not the first time something like that has happened to me and it won’t be the last. London is a big city and it houses more creeps than any other place I’ve ever lived.

I hope she is okay. Maybe I should go and speak to her or something? She probably wouldn’t want to speak to me. She seems okay. I mean she must be used to men being like that towards her. She is breathtakingly beautiful.

His thoughts stopped me in my tracks. I turn to my right and meet the gaze of two blue eyes. He quickly buries his head back into the papers lying in front of him. For once in my life I actually want to hear more of what someone is thinking about me so I push my weight against the heavy glass door of the coffee shop and make my way inside.

I am immediately overwhelmed my the temperature change from outside. The air is laced with the smell of coffee and cake which only gets stronger as I make my way towards the counter. I order the first coffee on the menu, quickly pay and sit down in a seat with a good view of the blue eyed boy.

He noticed me coming in but quickly forgets about me and carries on writing. I gather he is a journalist as he is writing something which sounds like a newspaper article. But I’m not really interested in that, I’m interested in the dark cloud that seems to hover over his thoughts.

I listen to him thinking for a while before I have to leave for work. After not being able to stop thinking about him for the full day, I decide to drop in on my way home to listen for a little while to find out more about him. Something about the way he thinks intrigues me.

I push the door open with my shoulder, now carrying twice as much as this morning with my hands are full of todays paperwork. The blue eyed boy is sitting in the same position now staring into his laptop screen. But he is not the same. He has now lost all concentration on the work he was doing this morning and the black cloud which was once just hovering is now completely filling his head.

I order and pay for my coffee and sit down in a seat not to far away but not to close to the boy. He doesn’t notice me which makes me listening to his thoughts a lot easier. I settle myself down, put some of my papers out on the desk and make myself look like I have a purpose.

I get sucked into his mind quickly. Something about the way he thinks, the way his brain operates is just wonderful.

I’ll need to go and visit her after work. Just the thought of her being alone right now makes me upset. I love her.

People are meant to be happy when they speak about love. Why is his head full of sadness if he is in a relationship with someone he loves?

But when I’m with her it makes me feel even worse. I fighting a losing battle with myself. I just sit and watch her lying in that hospital bed thinking that if she just stepped off the pavement one second later everything would be okay. But I want to be there when she wakes up.

I listened to his thoughts for what seemed like only minutes to me but when he finally started to pack up his things I realised it was closing time. I watch him leave as I pack up my things. I wait a few minutes before leaving the shop and follow him home to his flat just on the next block.

Once he is in his flat safe and sound I start off on the journey home. The dark nights are now here because the streets are black. With only the faint light of the street lamps to guide me home I start to worry that I will bump into the man who grabbed me this morning. I pull me coat tightly around my waist and start walking faster towards my flat.

The next day I do everything as I do everyday. As I walk along the street I secretly hope that when I walk past the shop he will be there. God grants my wish because as I walk past the window he looks up from the seat where he sat yesterday. I automatically head for the door of the shop.

I sit down with my coffee and listen. The dark cloud has completely taken over his body now. His papers are still lying in a folder on the desk untouched and his coffee is lying cold in the mug.

C’mon Charlie try to think clearly don’t let the thoughts take over. Just think everything through.

He stops and takes a deep breath.

What am I going to do? How am I going to tell her parents if I cant even think the words in my head? The nurses voice echoes around me. Her words will haunt me for the rest of my life. ‘Mr Tomlin, Charlie is it? Well, Charlie its bad news. I’m afraid to inform you that Miranda will not wake up...’ I didn’t hear the rest. I couldn’t process the information she had just gave me. A life without Miranda is completely alien to me. I don’t know the world without her. My world isn’t a world without her.

I watched the first tear roll down Charlie’s cheek. My heart felt like it had just shattered into a million little pieces. He buried his head in his hands and tried to muffle his cries. He wanted to disappear. A feeling that I have felt so many times before.

I follow him home that night and sit outside his flat door and just listen to him thinking. I have my legs tucked into a basket with my coat bound tightly around me as the floor in the stairway to his flat is concrete which makes sitting here almost unbearably cold. I do it though because I need to make sure he is okay.

The pain is unbearable. The flat is empty without her. My life is empty without her. I have to go and say goodbye to her tomorrow. Her parents are going to stay with her right till the end but I just can’t bear to watch them turn the machine that is keeping her alive off. I can’t watch them kill her. I couldn’t live with the guilt. I can’t live without the guilt.

It is clear to me that Charlie is in an unstable place. He doesn’t want to live in a world without his love. He doesn’t want to live. I have to do something. I have to help him but I can’t. I feel completely powerless. I am completely powerless. I don’t want to leave him here in the fear of what he might do to himself but I know that I have no other choice. I can’t help him. He doesn’t know who I am. He doesn’t know that I know what he is thinking. He has no idea.

I’m now lying in bed thinking about whats going to happen. If I don’t say anything he will harm himself. If I do say something I will spend the rest of my life in some sort of mental hospital like some sort of freak. I am not a freak. I didn’t choose to be like this. I don’t know what to do. I roll over and bury my face into my pillow. I don’t move until my alarm goes off.

I can’t face going into the coffee shop and listening so instead I stand against the wall outside the coffee shop and listen to Charlie thoughts from there.

The love of my life will die today. They are literally turning her life off at seven o’clock tonight. Thats when I’ll make my decision.

I can’t listen anymore. I walk to work my mind filled with things I know I can never say to him. I spend the rest of the day just thinking. Thinking about him and how I can’t save him. I can’t be the freak. I just can’t.

I make my way home from work. The cold air making the nerves in my stomach knot. My palms are sweaty even though I can’t move my fingers from the cold. I stuff them into my pockets and keep walking. I can’t stop thinking about him. Its eating me alive.

I walk past the crystal clear glass front of the coffee shop where I first discovered Charlie. His seat lies empty and the guilt washes over me. Then I make my decision. I make the decision to risk my life to save his.

I find myself pulling my stilettos off my feet and running to his flat. My mind is made up. I have to speak to him.

I run up the concrete stairs to him flat. I am now standing outside his door preparing myself to chap. This is it. This is when I wreck my life to save him.

Something is different... I can’t hear him thinking like I could before.

I look down at my watch and read five past seven.

He has already made his decision.