Leaning back, he sits as he was taught at primary school, erect and upright. Moulding his spine to the straight-backed, uncomfortable orange chair he appears awkwardly tall.
Looking down at his hands he loudly cracks each knuckle, startling with the left, pinkie finger until he reaches the opposite on his right hand. Forehead glistening in the harsh tube light, he possesses an impersonal face that offers despondency to all who encounter it. His large brown eyes soak in sadness, expressing his reality, even as he tries to smile.
A swollen, crimson nose rises out of the centre of his face to give him a listless appearance. An overly large mouth, lips concealing uneven teeth, together with jawbone and cheekbone extend the face beyond normal length. His pale, wan complexion coupled with a semi-permanent scowl display a quality if not attractive, the actuality of this face reaches at least some degree of uniqueness.
This may be due to the room, the fluorescent lighting, the achromatic setting in which we meet him. Biting his lip, he takes a deep breath; the strain on his face contorting his smile into a grimace as his eyes squint and glaze over. Pushing out his slender left arm he checks his watch for the eighth time in seven minutes.
Drooping forward he rests his bony elbows on his knees, laying head in hands, running long, thin fingers through the greasy mane of hair, leaving it even more untidy then before. It is in this position he observes the waiting room.
Drawn to the young women in the emerald shirt next to him, he focuses. Darkly attractive, she represents everything he desires. Although his first thought is one of her being 'out of his league', their eyes meet so he offers an uneasy smile. She returns this smile but shifts her gaze to the floor. Sensing an opportunity he leans back and adopts a more confident pose. Crossing his legs (left over right as he's been taught), he opens his mouth and makes a proclamation. "I am a poet."
He speaks loudly and clearly, projecting in a way mother would approve. Nodding, he seems pleased with the effort and smiles with sincerity. At first she doesn't know what to say, allowing enough time for the pause to register uneasily. Trying valiantly, she attempts to control her reaction, but her laughter sounds cruel and severe. This only seems to make her more beautiful, and him feeling even worse. Standing up she apologises profusely and saunters away with the elegance he had anticipated. Sustaining his smile he cannot hide embarrassment.
As she escapes from the room he emits a low groan and slumps into his chair, all the while aware he's blushing.
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