Taste

Alicianna Carlson though she had a hold on her life, yet she had no idea what living really was. As a journalist, she always

found the exiting story, but never lived one herself. That is until she met Andrew Rowley, a dashing Englishmen with a taste for

adventure, and living life to the fullest.

“Maggie, where is the coffee?” Alicianna asked her roommate in earnest. She was going to be late for work, which meant

she would miss her deadline for the latest story.

“You were supposed to buy some!” Maggie’s eyes told her frustration. “This is the fifth time you have done this!” Maggie

stomped out of the apartment and her job as a bookstore clerk. Alicianna sighed and grabbed her keys. She turned and left the

apartment. While walking on her way to her work, she noticed something strange at the Hilton hotel. A crowd was forming outside

the large building. Alicianna quickly dismissed it and moved on down the crowded New York streets.

“Lici, you’re late!” Alicianna’s boss screamed into her ears when she had reached her place of business. Her boss, John

Carlton, was furious in a way she had never seen him. He sat back down in his chair and ran a hand over his face, sighing. “I really

hate to do this Lici. You’re a great reporter, but you just can’t make a commitment. You’re fired. I’m so sorry.” John really did look

sorry. Alicianna turned and walked out of the office, fighting the tears that threatened to spill. She gathered her things in a box,

getting looks from her coworkers that said it all. They would miss her ways with words, but they were glad to see her go. Now there

would be less yelling at them, and more raises and vacations.

On her way back, she stopped at a local grocery and picked up some coffee and something for dinner. She returned to

her apartment and put away the groceries. At first she didn’t notice the broken window, but when she did; her scream could be heard

for four floors of her large apartment complex.

The window was shattered, and the floor was covered in blood. Alicianna backed up slowly, her bare feet slowly moving

against the carpeted floor. Suddenly, her foot came into contact with something squishy. She turned around quickly to see a young

man, about her age (25 or so), lying on the floor, unconscious. His body was covered in cuts and bruises and blood leaked from a

bullet hole in his side. She quickly picked up the phone and dialed 911, her voice gasping as she struggled to relay the message of

this man’s misfortune.

Before she knew what she was doing, she leaned over and ran her fingertips over his face. She let her eyes graze over

his features, as though they were a painting. Suddenly, a noise was heard as the paramedics pleaded to be buzzed in. Alicianna

staggered over to the button and quickly pressed it. She unlocked her door and stepped back as the paramedics stormed into the

living room of her small apartment.