Ok, this is an idea I'm working on.. still has a lot of work to be done on it and what not, doesn's have a title, C4C of course, have fun with it.

Though the morning was young, no sun to grace the skies, no moon either, activity was still abound in Paris. Bakers still rose to make their breads and the many alcoholics still stumbled from bar to bar. Through the constant that was street level Paris there was one man that was considered out of touch, different, this man, though to his fellows, was a nobody, would change the streets of Paris for centuries to come.

Pierre Rossi sat in his one bedroom studio apartment above the streets of Paris, pen in hand he sat hunched over his desk, scribbling words down onto his pad, none were in any particular order, though, through them, Pierre was hoping for magic to emerge. Pierre sighed and placed his pen down and walked over to his one, fogged up window, wiping it clear he stared down into the streets below and stared down at the couples that passed through them, anger touched him, and he moved away. He stared around the room, looking contemptuously at each item that graced it; “this” he said aloud “is all I have to show for twenty five years of work.” Pierre had shocked himself then, for he was not normally a man one would consider to be greedy. He shook his head and moved towards the old wooden door, taking a heavy overcoat from the rack that that stood next to it stepped out and locked the door behind him.

Coffee, one of Pierre’s truest loves, had sent wafts of scent lovingly into his nostrils to entice him, he didn’t need much convincing, and the desire for the drink had hit him like a heroin addiction, he licked his lips and walked through the cold streets of Paris, his hands thrust deep within the large pockets of his overcoat, his collar up and his head bowed so no one could identify him. Though his hot heavy breathing bellowed from his lungs, condensing in mid air, turning to steam in the cold air, he trudged on. Pierre had never been able to handle the cold, it always cut through him, etching its frozen claws deep into his flesh, it was the reason he bought the coat, it had worked for some years too, though now, threadbare, and it was resisting the cold less and less. He approached the small café that was located at the end of the street where Pierre resided, the café seemed warm, not just the inside, the outside, also, it just gave Pierre a warming sensation, he had little time to dwell on the feeling, as he had only just begun to realise that he had lost the feeling in his fingertips on both hands they were freezing. He opened the door of the café and stepped into the homely, warm, floor boarded room, he approached the counter where he was greeted by the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on, though, again he had little time to dwell on such thoughts, as she began to realise his staring “short black, thank you.” Without much more than a nod he turned and sat down at a single chaired table where, out through the window, he could again stare at the people, a slight smile touched his lips then, well, he thought, at least this time, I am the one on the up side.

kind of ironic, and kind of hard to understand the last line if u dont have a very high or semi high comprehension level, i really liked it, i cant crit stories line for line, beacuse there are sooo many types, but i could see this being a movie, like "stranger than fiction"

very nice,
in sig