Neighborhood #4 (7 Kettels)

..................................................................................

Neela jumped out of bed at 9.15 in the morning. She couldn't waste another minute in bed. Not on such a bright, sunny Saturday morning. After having a simple breakfast she put on a white hat, matching scarf and gloves and left her warm, tiny flat. She walked straight down to Mike's Cafe and got herself a large cup of a cappuccino to go. The way she likes to spend her time on days like these is on the front seat of the upper deck on bus route number 9. From one side of town to the other, sipping her coffee, just gazing out on the packed, colorful streets. She always sits on the left side. No reason, just likes that side better.
Erman had a heavy Friday night. He opened his eyes instinctively just after 10, only to realize that this was not his bed. He could kill for a Marlboro he thought. He got dressed quietly and walked out on the street. He caught the number 9 bus soon after, went upstairs, sat at the front seat, leaned his head against the window and closed his eyes. On the right side. They travelled through London exactly like that but not for a single moment did they notice each other. Each one being the exact opposite, perfect match for the other. That night they both listened to the same songs.

Neighborhood #4 (7 Kettels)

I am waitin' 'til I don't know when, cause I'm sure it's gonna happen then. Time keeps creepin' through the neighborhood, killing old folks, wakin' up babies just like we knew it would. They say a watched pot won't ever boil, well I closed my eyes and nothin' changed, just some water getting hotter in the flames.