My nimble fingers sifted through the pocket in practised and precise movements. My hands slid in and out. Silent. Unseen. My eyes darted around desperately searching for my next target. I was a snake, slippery and self serving, which was ironic really considering my name is Alicia, the name is meant to represent a person of virtues. Honourable - a person that most definitely isn't me.

Most people call me Ali.

I drew my attention back to my current task. A simple job really, being a pickpocket. It really wasn't too difficult once you got the knack for it. Unfortunately for her, my current victim was the middle aged woman standing tall in the centre of the street.

She has golden hair swept back in perfect curls but that was about as far as her beauty went. Her face was caked in layers of makeup. To my dismay, her big brown eyes were coated in the most awful shade of blue eyeshadow that really did not go with the pink outfit - that showed far too much cleavage for a woman of her age. I mean she's fifty. Not eighteen.

Some people! However she didn't seem like the brightest leaf on the tree.

Merrily strolling down the street wearing a gold bracelet encrusted with some of the finest diamonds I had seen in a while, was never the best of ideas. Clearly too rich to care if it was lost.

So naturally I did what any decent pickpocket would do, I removed her of the burden and allowed her to complain to get the attention she so eagerly wanted. Plus she would no doubt get a new one - a more expensive one, soon enough.

I am actually doing her a favour. She just might not agree yet.

With the lavish piece of jewellery now in my possession I strolled down the streets of Paris, my steps slightly lighter than before.

●○

Definitely, living the dream in my exquisite top-floor flat - complete with leaks in every room to add a little touch of luxury. Soaked to the bone daily, thanks to the impeccable timing of winter. I had just two more days of this splendour before my grand return to the warmth of England. Wouldn't want to get spoiled now. Would I?

As you can probably tell my living conditions are less than suitable and I am not using it to justify my less than legal activities but what can a girl do?

Too many people look down on me. Always so quick to cast me aside as a criminal. "How many of them have a roof that lets in more water than it stops?" I muttered to myself. "They be me for a day and then they can judge me."

A sudden grumble startled me. I looked down at the culprit. My stomach. Sighing I let my hunger take control, it was a familiar sensation, the ache of no substantial food, and so it led me towards the singular cupboard in the cramped kitchen.

The flat was iced over enough for me to watch the warm air I breathed out materialise in front of my face.

Inside the cupboard I found a packet of pasta. After more searching, I found a bottle of pesto, which was to my complete and utter delight, it was a shame I had no cheese to go with it. I missed cheese. 'Stop complaining Ali. It's just two more days,' I snapped underneath my breath (I swear talking to myself is a problem.) 'It's not a big deal so suck it up. Cheese is just cheese.'

But it was more than just cheese.

Putting the water on to heat up I reached into my pocket examining the bracelet I had stolen earlier. Sadly it was only gold plated but the selection of diamonds were very much real.

Compared to the women itself it was a rather simple design. The openwork links are adorned with gorgeous diamonds. Personally the piece was fabulous, then again a blue Lopez would have suited the design better making it almost appear to have a floral look.

I had always wanted to be a designer.

Yet you don't always get what you want. If we got what we want I wouldn't be living in this rotting hell. I would be in a small cottage in the countryside with a bit of land to go with it. Animals. There would be lots of animals and when you woke up you would hear the gentle song of morning birds rather than the metal clanking of cars. Yet you don't always get what you want.

I ate my pasta in silence.

I lay listening to the rhythmic hum of distant traffic, my mind orchestrating a constant flow of thoughts. Drooping eyes were most likely followed by soft snores as slowly sleep took me away. I was grateful for the reprieve it gave me, an escape, sleep was an escape.

○●

Morning came and went, the cold stifling my will to do anything, trapping me in its icy grip so I stayed put. Just past noon and I was aching to move, which I would have done had the air not been so thick with ice.

Finally I was given the opportunity to force my lazy ass into action. Someone knocking on my door. I understand if it was anyone else this wouldn't be too unusual but I knew nearly no one in France and was unpopular as it is that this occurrence was rather rare. Naturally my curiosity peaked.

Opening the door, I was met with striking blue eyes, contrasting my own green ones. Next, I noted that this was, in fact, a man. I wouldn't go around calling him tall; neither would I say he was small. Similarly to his height, he wasn't a massively attractive guy, but his features didn't hurt the eyes either. The brown hair was a messy mop on his head; however, nothing about him screamed wealth, which was a disappointment - I needed more cash.

'Oui?' My tone was a touch harsher than intended.

'Bonjour, je suis André,' I barely understood, my French knowledge was seriously lacking (Google Translate was practically my best friend).

'Anglais?' I tentatively asked.

'Yes, my name's André, and I moved next door.' His accent was thick, but he spoke fluently.

'And?'

'I just wanted to know who my neighbour is,' his reply seemed rehearsed. 'You are?'

'Ali.' Before he could say anything more, I slammed the door in his face.

I know: I can be a bit rude. It's just me, and people don't work. I can't handle it. I don't have many, if any, friends because my life isn't exactly easy, and having friends requires trust; I don't trust people. Plus, I don't want to feel responsible for anyone. No connections. No guilt.

Oh well, I need to sell that bracelet along with the watch and golden ring. The ring would catch a nice price, as the dignified emerald diamond was seamlessly woven into an amazing infinity knot - beautiful. Some people really need to take better care of their beloved items.

Quickly I collected the stolen valuables carefully wrapping them up to avoid any other pocket thief's.

See how well I take care of my stuff.

Like how I got the items, selling the stolen goods wasn't quite legal. I knew this guy, Big John who sold them on. I would sell them to him and then he could make a profit by selling them to others, sometimes legally after having to undergo changes to remove the product number or illegally. Personally, having him as the middleman was good as it prevented me getting in too deep. Too deep to get out.

Big John was English like me having moved here when he married his French wife. He and his wife were both jacked. Muscles bigger than a model's waist. Literally. Big John had a long beard; a buzz cut and was roughly 6 foot. Whereas his wife, Margot was more like 5 foot 6, has tattoos covering every spare part of her skin except her face. This ink infestation didn't spare her neck, legs or other aspects of her body. Brown hair and eyes, nothing special there. Just don't get on her bad side, trust me.

I knocked on his door, one much nicer than my own; they could even afford to paint it a lovely blue. The apartment they owned was a more stereotypical French flat, with a gorgeous wooden staircase that spiralled around in elegant twirls and stunning balconies overlooking an unforgettable cityscape. You could faintly hear the roaring of a busy road below, but from the height they stayed at, it was a small mumble of noise.

It was Margot who opened the door. 'Hey,' I started, 'Is Big John home?' She didn't smile; she just turned and hollered, 'John, you lazy bugger, Ali is here to see you!'

'Coming!' A deep voice resonated back. Heavy footsteps thudded closer before the tall man arrived, standing over my rather skinny 5-foot-5 frame. 'What do you need, kid?'
'I have more gifts,' he knew what I meant, ushering me inside. 'Let's see.' He sounded eager-anything welcoming before vanishing at the prospect of money.

With Big John and Margot, I knew where I stood; we were pleasant but no chit-chat, and business was always first. We had no love lost. I tipped the contents of the parcel onto the mahogany coffee table (a lovely item bought by one of my successful finds). Several minutes of examination passed.

He strolled towards a safe, his muscles flexing as he took out a wad of notes. 'Here.' I looked down, 1500 euros. 'It was more than this.'
'Afraid not; the ring and watch cover most of it. The bracelet was plated gold and man-made diamonds. You ain't getting more.' His tone was final. I hadn't realised it was man-made diamonds. Of course, it was, though. Gold plated and actual diamonds didn't make sense. I internally kicked myself. I knew begging for more wouldn't help.

They didn't care.

'A drink before you go?' Margot interjected, 'Coffee or tea?'
'Coffee,' she nodded in approval. I might be English but not that English. Big John on the other hand gulped down his tea. Gulp. Gulp. Gulp. Thud! He slammed his mug onto the table. A silence dragged on. I studied their faces. They exchanged a look. 'So..." she started, 'We have a job for you,'
'I don't do jobs,' I knew they must have wanted something, 'You know that.'
'This is different. Same as usual with stealing something off the street. Just with a targeted person, a watch. No big deal.' Big John cut in, lying through his teeth
'No.' I stood up. They stood up too.
'Come on Ali. It's well paid.' they were desperate, most likely needed this for some sort of debt they had gotten themselves into.
'You are the best we have,' Margot tried to flatter me. I knew I was the best, yet I still lived where I did.
'No.' I didn't bother saying goodbye nor did I tell them this would be the last time we met.

I didn't care.

Despondent, I lugged my legs up the stairs to my flat. Stair after stair after stair, I dragged my body up. I was tired of this. One more flight to go. Then you can sleep the rest of the day away. Fate had other plans as André appeared in front of me, a grin rather large for his face widening at the sight of me. 'Ali, what a surprise.'

'We live on the same floor,' I responded dryly.

'What are you up to?' Although spoken flawlessly, the accent was still so strong. It was nice; his voice was very nice.

'Going back up to my apartment.' He laughed, brown hair falling over his eyes.

'I don't know about yours, but I wouldn't call mine an apartment. How long have you lived here?' His constant enthusiasm and questions started to irritate me.

'True. Not long, and I'm leaving in two days, so let's quit the chat.' Once again, I was blunt, and although he quickly recovered, for a split second, he looked disappointed. Why? I had no idea. He met me a few hours ago.

'Well then, I better let you go.' He waited for a response, perhaps for me to say something to initiate a conversation or at least a simple goodbye. Me being me just walked past, leaving him gawking and offended on the steps.