Chapter 3. Annalita.

The epic speech writing was a big swing and a miss, giving up, I decided to head back to my apartment. If I was right and other path from the bench led to the other side of the park, I could use it as a shortcut. 

Following that route was the only good thing to come out of visiting the park. It was beautiful, stunningly so. Either side of the dirt track was lined with majestic looking beech trees with the edges of the pathway marked out with stones. My surroundings reminded me of a fairy tale.

I sauntered along, taking my time, knowing that I'd soon be back in amongst the crowds of people that populated the busy city streets. The city was fantastic, I loved the diverse culture, the nightlife, Saltharbor City Library was probably one of the biggest in the country. Mostly I loved to people watch.

The gate for the west entrance to the park could be spotted in the distance, I had been right about where this pathway led to and made a mental note of where it diverged from the main walkway. I picked up my pace once I had left the slice of enchanting woodland hidden within the confines of the bustling city. Turning right at the gate, I hoisted my bag on my shoulder and almost jogged the couple of blocks to my building.

My apartment was in an renovated factory in the old industrial quarter, which was now a thriving hub for the younger generation of Saltharbour. The streets were lined with small coffee shops and restaurants with unique little shops dotted inbetween. There were no big retailers in this area which added to it's charm and appeal.

The entrance door to the building was cherry wood with steel inlays and a long pull bar. There was a discreet keycard entry system for the residents, one of the few modernised features. I took the stairs to the third floor. 

All the apartment doors were made of steel, leftover relics from the building's industrial history. They were all unique in their own way, the rust patterns and odd dents here and there, but the doors were all still numbered as you would expect.

Unlocking my door and stepping inside, I tossed my keys into the bowl that sat on a sideboard made from reclaimed wood. There were three drawers in the centre with a cupboard on either side of them, the doors slatted and rustic looking.

I walked through the open lounge area to the kitchen, hanging my bag on one of the tall, high-backed bar stools that I had managed to salavage when one of the restaurants were having an over haul due to new ownership. My best friend and I sanded the stools and grey washed them to fit in with the whole upcycled vibe we had going on.

My best friend, Hayden, was also my flatemate. When we both were accepted into university, we immediately set out to look for somehere to live. Dorms were expensive, so both our parents agreed to us living off site so long as it was in a decent neighbourhood.

It was fate, I believe, that we found this place. Hayden and I had been pouring over rental listings when the realtor mentioned that an old factory had been recently bought and renovated by a private investor. The apartments were for sale and were reasonably priced. Having inherited a very comfortable sum from my paternal grandparents, the cost of buying it would barely leave a dent in my funds.

I talked it over with my parents before deciding. They had taught me the value of money and the priviledges that having money gave a person. I didn't flaunt my wealth. I was never frivilous like some of the spoilt rich kids I went to school with. They all drove the latest and greatest cars while I preferred a simple, basic model.

Hayden was unwilling to let me foot the entirety of the bill but I covinced him that I saw it as an investment and told him as long as he put his art degree to good use and occasionally cooked for me then there was noone else I'd rather live with.

I looked around at the exposed red bricked walls and the canvases that adorned them, smiling as I did. Hayden was an exceptional talent, not only as a painter but also as a photographer. I chuckled to myself as I acknowledged the fact that I could barely draw a stick figure!

The kitchen/dining area had two large, pop art inspired canvases depicting a mixture of both of our favourite foods. The lounge area was more subtle, a black and white photograph of the city's landscapes hung on either side of a bigger, central photo of Hayden and I. It was a selfie we had taken not long after moving in.

To celebrate we had gone to the beach. The moment captured was one of care free joy. I was sat on the sand, arms behind me, holding myself up as my head was thrown back in laughter at something he had said. My hair was styled like 50's pin up girl, wearing a red and white polkadot bikini top, tied in the middle at the front. The black and white contrast of the photo made my skin look like porcelain.

Hayden was sat beside me, body turned to me. One of his legs were curled under him whist his other knee was bent up to his body. He was propped up on one arm, his shirtless, toned body glistening from the way the sunlight hit him. His dreadlocked, black hair were neatly gathered into a loose ponytail at thee nape of his neck, a small diamond stud sparkled in his ear. Hayden's almod shaped eyes were crinkles with laughter lines and his deep brown eyes were penetrating. His full lips were parted in a crooked grin, white straight teeth peeking through the gap.

Pulling myself out of my reverie, I opened moved around the bar counter top to the fridge, puling out a bottle of water, taking a deep drink, as I made my way through to my bedroom. I entered the good sized room and went over to my stereo, switching it on, hitting play with whatever CD was already in there. The sound of old school rock filling the space.

I grabbed my laptop, powering it up and gently throwing it on my bed. I'd left my notebook in my bag and ran through to get it to transfer my notes, or lack there of, into print. i was nervous enough without panicking about not being able to read my chicken scratch writing once on stage.

Procrastinating ever so slightly, I decided to check my email before setting to work. I scolled through the endless amount of spam, wondering how these companies and websites managed to get my address, when my eyes landed on one from the offices of Warner Labs.

My curiosity was piqued as I clicked on it. Why would they be emailing me? I hadn't applied. Reading through it quickly, I let out a shaky breath as I re-read it not once but twice. Surely this was a mistake?

It stated that the company has affliations with Winston University and that as I was graduating summa cum laude they were willing to offer me a position in on of their research facilities as a research and development assistant. I went on to read that because of this requisite they do not advertise publically, taking only the top talent of that years graduates.

I sat back on the bed in disbelief. This was a dream come true for me. Sitting back up and looking at the screen again, I scrolled through once more. The email had been signed by the man himself. The elusive Aiden Warner.