Champagne Breakfast

Pure opulence, was my first cliched, yet apt thought. The glistening chandeliers, the clink of crystal against crystal, the fake laughter amongst softened lighting; all a stark reminder that I didn't belong here.1

The suspicious and guarded looks thrown my way alongside the chatter, which instead of being inviting seemed cold and malicious, further confirmed my fears of inadequacy.2

My nervous fingers played with the trim of the table cloth, my duffel coat still hugged me protectively across my slumped shoulders. I studied the gold framed mirrors lacing the wall and how they reflected the light to an unnatural brightness. 3

I couldn't meet the eyes of my companion. I should have been able to, considering what he had just done for me a few hours before. But this setting made my already strained nerves threaten to boil over. 4

This man had saved my life last night. As if that hadn't been enough, he had insisted on accompanying me to hospital and then instead of allowing me to return home, had offered to buy me breakfast. 5

I knew from his tailored and immaculate suit that he was a successful business man; but a champagne breakfast at nine in the morning. He was clearly richer than I first thought. 6

A strong sense of guilt came over me as I finally lifted my eyes to meet his. He was smiling; a genuine warm smile, as if he couldn't believe his luck. To have saved the life of a young, blonde woman who was now dining with him. A poor vulnerable female, who had had such a nasty shock. 7

You would think that I'd somehow saved his life not the other way around. 8

But my nerves weren't on edge from stepping out in front of the car; the nerves weren't even solely related to feeling out of place (the simple working class girl that I had grown up to be). My fear, my guilt, was all tied into the real reason behind the previous nights events.9

If only he knew the truth.10