Jury Duty

"Good God," muttered John. They had been calling names since he had sat down in the Boston Courthouse waiting room-a mere fifteen minutes that began to feel like hours-but still there was no call of "John Adams" to be heard. Why did jury duty have to be such an infuriatingly slow process. When I become mayor, this will be the first thing i improve.

He hadn't realize he had been speaking aloud until he noticedthe man a few seats down staring at him, his expression unreadable. Their gaze met for a few seconds before they both looked away.

Oh great, John thought, another person who thinks I'm crazy. He glanced over at the man again but all of his attention had been returned to the sketchbook in front of him. He was probably the most intersting thing to look at in the dull waiting room. John had decided this. He was bored.

The first thing John noticed was his height, maybe a bit over six feet-a far cry from his own 5' 7". The man's long legs were stretched out, taking up most of the aisel. He had wavy hair, of a deep red color which curled around his ears and ended at the nape of his neck. A few strands fell into his face, blocking his soulful green eyes. Said eyes were currently glued to the sketchbook laid out on his knees. His tweed suit looked worn and had leather patches at the elbows. John also noticed that the cuff of the sleeves ended about an inch too short of his wrists. The man made a few small scratchy pecil marks before gazing up again, this time to stare out the room's single window.

Now getting a better look, he also noticed the pair of tortoiseshell glasses resting on his head (how had he not seen those before?) and the light sprinkling of freckles gracing his cheekbones. He was just about to look away (he was probably starting to look creepy by now) when he noticed the sketchbook. I was a detailed profile of a man, sharp eyes, a slightly beak-like nose, closely cropped dark hair, and what looked like a half draw suit jacket and necktie.

"Does my nose really look like that?" John mused, only half expecting the stranger to hear him.

"Sorry." the man instantly replied, in his deep and silky voice.

"No, it's fine! To be honest, I'm flattered." said John. A slight smile tugged at his face.