Disclaimer: I do not own CSI: New York and am making no profit from this writing. No copyright infringement is intended.
A/n: I am not British and this has not been Brit picked please excuse any blatant errors or insults I am truly sorry and feel free to point them out. Inspired by a friend on LJ and also the prompt at alphabetasoup F is for Flavor.
Suspension
The bell above the door tinkled and as she let the heavy door slide from her grasp Peyton inhaled and let out a happy sigh. This was a British haven in the midst of New York She couldn't define it really it was a bakery and a teashop all rolled into one in a classic example of one culture adapting to another. But for a moment the noise outside dimmed and she could pretend it was the busy streets of London because if she closed her eyes here nose was assaulted with the smell and taste of home. Few people understood how she could smell a flavor even when science showed a connection between the two senses but she could.
"Hello doll," came the warm rich voice of the proprietor. "You want the usual today?" Smiling she nodded and finally opened her eyes, her ears relishing the familiar sound so foreign this side of the Atlantic.
"Hello Union." The greeting was simple and a joke between countrymen. His name was Jack, but friends called him Union. Oh he was just as loyal as any citizen but he would always carry a piece of home with him. In fact he had made it his livelihood.
She took a seat at one of the wrought iron tables and took a moment to take in her surroundings visually. Everything about this place reminded her of her life back in England. A place she knew and that had formed her, yet it was a place she could no longer call home. She had been in America for some time and she was a citizen, but one was always shaped by their surroundings.
The breads, pastries, and buns on display all had familiar names that rolled off her tongue and reminded her of the daily trips she would take to the corner bakery with her grandfather and grandmother who preferred the old way to the new supermarkets. She remembered as a girl watching in fascination as the old baker who was a life long friend of her grandfather showed her how he made scones and she still to this day remembered every step. When she had been very homesick in the early years she had made them in her apartment but it had never been the same.
"Here you go love," he placed a steaming cup of imported English tea and a fresh scone in front of her. She smiled her thanks, and knowing she was in a quiet mood he left her to her thoughts. The tea was good and strong and savored the flavor assaulting her taste buds. She ate the scone slowly as she considered everything that had gotten her this far. University, having little left in England, the chance to study abroad, teaching, the medical examiner's office, her work with the CSI's. It had been a long road and a tiring one, but Peyton was glad that it was not over yet.
She sat quietly and finished her tea enjoying the flavors on all her senses. The taste of the bitter tea, the mixture of muted traffic outside and the hearty sea ballad Jack had begun as he rolled out more dough, The heady smell of flour and yeast, the soft tones of red and blue in the interior of the shop. She let out a breath of contentment. A small pause in life to remember: to taste, hear, see, and smell, sometimes that was all she needed. She walked up to the counter and put the money down to pay for her food. He spirit light she said cheerily, "Thanks Union." He only grinned over his shoulder in reply. The bell above the door tinkled again and she was gone, back into the sensual overload that was New York.