She picked up the newspaper from a table nearby.  Her face was staring back at her again, the third time this month.  She folded it in half, trying to hide from the grin that seemed to take over the page.

This cafe was her sanctuary, she felt safe here.  The staff knew who she was but they didn’t care.  They didn’t make a fuss, she was another customer to them.  To them she was skinny latte in a mug.  It was perfect.

As she sipped her coffee she flipped through her diary, sighing at all of the things that she had to do for the day.  There were meetings, interviews and being in the public eye.  It was exhausting.  She often wondered what it would be like to spend the rest of her days drinking coffee in this sanctuary.  Would she become part of the furniture, part of the quirk of the place?  Would people know her as the woman who never leaves, some kind of legend to make tales about?

Her life was already about people making stories of her life, regardless of how much truth there was to them.  These stories were rarely heroic or romantic.  They didn’t make her part of the history.  At least that is what she tried to tell herself when she was swamped by clicking cameras and people shouting questions.

She was still surprised that she had managed to keep this cafe a secret for so long.  Every morning she dreaded the moment that they found out and followed her here too.  They could usually anticipate her every move, sometimes even before she could.  Their hands grabbing for her as she tried to break away.

From her handbag, her mobile started to chime.  It was time to face the music and get back to reality.  It was now or never.  She had to give up her hot coffee and designer threads.  It was worth it though, for her new bosses where hard task masters but they were cute.  It was fun to play dress ups, to reminisce about the life she once lived, of front page news, but she knew being a stay at home mum was what she really wanted.