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It was the end of February and the weather was more chilly than it usually is this time of year. Your cheeks would turn a shade of fuchsia just from stepping outside. Everyone tried their best to avoid the frigid outdoors but I found I certain beauty in the still air. It was as though time had stopped; been frozen, and we rest in the middle of a timeless land.

Everything was painted in a crystal white snow though it wouldn't last long. The roads would be covered in a grey slush in a little while.

Its strange how things can look so different than they actually are. The wind seems pretty harmless when its blowing snow flakes around but its a killer when its giving people frost bite. I guess they weren't lying when they said looks can be deceiving.

My thoughts are interrupted when I hear a loud bang on my apartment door. I bustle over and open the door to my landlord, Neil Plank. Nothing good can come of this, he's an obnoxious man with an attitude and knows it. He's got a bad temper too.

"....Harry".

"Always a pleasure Plank." Something's wrong. Plank was hesitant, almost afraid to speak. He always has a mouthful to say and you are sure as hell going to listen to him. His words are bitter and harsh. I'd admired his confidence to say what needed to be said, even if it was rude.

"Its been three months without rent Harry. I hate to do this but I need to make a living, run this establishment. You need to pack your things and go". And with that Plank walked away, as though he hadn't just stripped me of my home.

I closed the red Victorian style door and leaned against it. I slide down it until I sat on the cold polished concrete floor. I looked around my apartment.

It was small and had an industrial appeal. The kitchen was open and had an island, the appliances were stainless steal and the counter tops were a light stained wood. Little bar stools were placed around the island. I reminisced about the good times me and my friends had had in that kitchen.

My bedroom was up in the loft area. A steal spiral staircase lead up to it. A massive book shelf lined the wall. It was a home to all my copies of classic literature.

The living room was under the loft. I leather couch rest against the wall facing a small TV. I never liked that couch, the leather was always so cold and it was hard and uncomfortable.

All the walls were a reddish brick. I covered them with posters and art work. The tiniest bathroom imaginable was stowed away just off the kitchen.

This place isn't much, but its everything. I can practically see my friends and I around the house; laughing, smiling. I push away the memories and stand up.

For someone that had just been evicted, I'm not worried at all. Maybe its because it wasn't the first time I'd been in a tight spot or maybe because I knew it was coming, but I was actually really relaxed.

I fell asleep on the couch that night. I woke up with a shooting pain in my back. That damn couch! I wasn't going to miss it whatsoever! I noticed a letter slipped under the bottom of the door as I headed to the kitchen to make coffee.

As my coffee brewed, I read the note. It was my official eviction notice from Plank. It informed me that I had a week to get my shit together and my ass out. I pinned the note to the fridge and got dressed.

I'd been unemployed since my little screw up a few months back. I'd gotten into some trouble with the wrong people and my family kicked me out. Said they wouldn't stand for my behavior. To be honest, I wouldn't have either, I was a wreck. I try to suppress the though of my family and all that shit as much as possible.

I'd had a decent amount of money saved up and I'd been living off of it for the past 8 eight months. I'd been running dry for the past three. I'd tried to find a job before but it was almost impossible. I only have a high school education and I have so much crap on my resume from my screw up that nobody wants to employ me. But I'd never been desperate like this before. I had to get a job today. I wouldn't make it without one.

I left the house and went into town. God it was cold here in Montreal. I was born in Europe but I moved here with my family when I was four years old. Gotta love Canadian weather though. When we first moved here, since we didn't get much snow back home, it was magical to see the storms and stuff.

Before I knew it, I'd gone into dozens of shops asking for work. I was turned down every time. I wish people could just see that I'm not the same person that is on my resume.

When it gets dark outside, I decide to give up. I go into the quaint little cafe on the way home. As I walked through the doors, the strong sent of coffee engulfs me. I take a seat at a table in the back and wait for a waitress.

A skinny brunette walks over. She is quite ravishing. Its her eyes that leave me wanting more once she goes to get my coffee. They are such a dark shade of brown, nearly black, but have this warmth to them. I ponder about them. I get one last glimpse at her when she returns with a my cup of steaming black coffee. Then she walks away.

I leave the cafe, thinking that her eyes are like Medusa's; wildly dangerous yet extremely compelling.

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Authors note

Hey guys, so this is my first story that I'm writing. I know there are a lot of Harry Styles fanfictions and I'm trying my best to make mine different from the others. I've got an idea of how I want the story to go now and I hope that it turns out good. I'm busy and procrastinate a lot but I'll try to update regularly! All the love!
~Ally

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