Glance

New windows, removed scaffolding. Bright. Clear view. On the pavement outside the cafe opposite the foreman of our building works and the surveyor from the Council have a meeting while drinking infinitely superior coffee than they might get from our building and bask in the morning sunshine. Miss Tapas next door is having food delivered from an organic supplier. The woman with the roof terrace over the cafe comes out of her French doors potters around for a minute holding down the front of her peach coloured tee shirt. Steps back inside, revealing a naked white bottom, and props the door open for ventilation. Next to the chimney stacks and across from the tree line the Shard has a facia of sheer silver - a silver sliver - where the sun hits it on one plane only.