I'm just along for the ride...

Simon is taking over the writing of himself, and sliced away plot points he doesn't like, such as his dick having a birthmark or tattoo or something. He thinks it's ridiculous, unbelievable for his character, and just plain superfluous. So, as he and I come to terms, here's a continuation of yesterday's post:

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Of course, Simon’s father had stopped talking to him after he learned his son was queer. Stopped even acknowledging him. Unlike his mother, who made it her mission in life to scare him straight by ranting about being subject to eternal damnation for going against God’s plan. He’d had to cut off contact or kill himself. So he’d chosen the former. 

Even though the latter still liked to make itself known, now and then.

Looking back, it was no surprise they'd reacted the way they had. No loss, really. Being the youngest, he had never been as close as his brothers and sister to his parents. He was like an afterthought. 

He smiled to himself at remembering the time his mother had said she thought he was homosexual just to get more attention from them. Like it was some familial path to acceptance. Very strange. 

But...he also found it curious that Paley in that uniform was reminding him of his father. That was a bit creepy. 

Simon merely walked past the three of them without even a nod and sat on a bench across from Courtroom Three, to await the grand opening of the double-doors. He took a moment to glance around and note it was a fine older building with a nice-looking corridor of polished wood. Probably oak stained to look like mahogany, which had once been a very big thing.

He had the sense that it had been constructed in the Thirties, probably under the WPA; it had that Art Deco feel. But would they have stained a lesser wood to achieve this look, back then? That might be something to research. Sometime. Or maybe it wasn’t so lesser, because the wood was intricately carved and well-polished and complimented by floors that were glazed slate. Giving off the sense of no money spared.

Church-like arches crossed above, with plain white plaster or sheetrock between them. He never could tell which was what. Overall, it was not so much intimidating as inviting respect. Peace. Perhaps even a hint of comfort instead of installing fear. Something he never thought of as coming from a courthouse. 

An older, once-attractive guard in a green and tan uniform stood before the double-doors, at parade rest, eyeing everyone with full suspicion or malevolence. He had that Marine stance and cut on full display. Simon had little doubt the man actually had been a jarhead. 

The bench he was seated on was also polished and a bit slippery thanks to it, but was close enough to the wall that he could lean back. So he pulled out his laptop and connected with his phone’s hotspot to fire up some WiFi. The building may have its own internet service, but he doubted it was at all that secure while his phone was. 

Not that he was being paranoid or anything. Oh, no. 

An old leather file portfolio held his documents and details, and also served well as a tray to rest his laptop on. So he was neatly set up to log in and scan his folders. The Word file of the vicious little story he had written about Paley, Walstead and the Judge was positioned near the top of the screen, making him smile. Writing that had let off a lot of steam so maybe he could make it through this fiasco after all and... 

“Good morning, Simon.” 

He jolted and looked up to see Dillon standing next to him, Elissa one step behind him. They must have snuck over, because both were very still and standing nearly at attention...like robots.