Drabble.

I have a new uniform, a new email address and a seat in an office. I catch the tube as the sun is rising and then again long after it has set. I miss most of daylight, bar an hour shoved somewhere in the middle. I spend my mornings rushing, and my evenings dawdling.

I spend long hours in front of a computer, sending emails that have my name attached to a staple signature at the bottom. My morning and afternoon tea breaks are two of the best parts of my day. I talk of letter heading, the practicality of MO and the weather.

I read the morning newspaper on the tube and listen to the nightly news on the radio. I walk with purpose, and often, a scowl. Oxford Street is so damn busy. Can't people dangle their Christmas packages and new purchases with money from a seemingly endless and work-free place, somewhere else.

I have somewhere to be.

I have a real job.

(And I love it. But there's something about London where you have to be begrudging to truly fit in. The angry faces on the suited-up types whizzing by? They're trying to show that they belong.)