By Chance

Chapter 5: The Office

Watching as the mob grew, like it does every morning, I notice that less people are gathering. Staring down at my wrist watch -I've been wearing one since the night I bumped into Logan at the pizzeria. He and I went back to his apartment in one of the high rises and shared his food. He went on to explain to the importance of always knowing the time- I see the hour hand finally reach the twelve, signaling ten o'clock, the new hour.

Men and women walk to and from the tall building perched behind me, as it always is. Suits, dresses and pastel colors pass me by like a sea of never ending fabric. Yelling and chants are thrown at my face, almost as if the wind is on their side, forcing me down to the steps to continue my art journey.

Pulling out my pencil and laying my sketchpad on my knees, I look around for inspiration for a possible new piece. Luckily, the lady at the studio's art showing wasn't trying to scam me. When I cashed the check into my account, it wasn't refunded or ineligible to go through.

That made me a happy man.

The city couldn't provide me with any inspiration today. A week or so ago I finished my sketch on the cartoonistic mob people before me. I couldn't be bothered with adding any color in, though.

My azure eyes wander around the stairs and to City Hall. The building stands out with it's reflective glass and eccentric architecture. I wonder what it looks like in there. Luckily, I've never been forced to attend a meeting or something of the sort in there.

"Mr. Williams! What do you think of the rioters outside of Seattle's City Hall?" A man is seen down the stairs, near the sidewalk, taking his first steps towards the building just spoken if. His dark hair possesses thin streaks of silver hair, displaying gentle aging.

A few people surround him: one with a microphone, another with a hefty camera and the last holding wires. The mob continues yelling at the man, Mr. Williams, and I freeze in my spot on the stairs.

Mr. Williams? Like, the Mr. Williams. The Mr. Williams who is the mayor of Seattle? The Mr. Williams who is the biological father to Logan Williams? My Logan Williams? That Mr. Williams?

A stumble catches my attention just as I see the parent of the guy I've been seeing almost everyday as friends falls before me. My arms jut out, my sketchpad falling away to the dirty steps, as the man lands on me.

"Please, for once, Kelly. Leave me be until conferences." The man on top of me groans, rolling off and onto the steps beside me, no doubt dirtying his suit.

"Excuse me?" I ask, looking up at him. He holds the same brown eyes as Logan, making me wonder what else they have in common.

Mr. Williams's eyes are turned away from me and to the lady holding the microphone. She sighs and tells the cameraman to pack up and head back to the van. The three reporters return to the sidewalk where they cross the street and walk to a black van., loading their gear up and taking off to god knows where.

"Sorry about that."

My head turns away from the retreating van and to the mayor. Also, to Logan's father.

I breathe in a quick intake of breath as I look him in the eye. Then, just as fast I look away towards city hall.

"It's alright, I'm used to people falling for me."

Oh shit, that wasn't supposed to sound so damn flirty. This is Logan's father for god's sake. I'm supposed to gain his approval, not his heart.

"Uh," I cough awkwardly. "What I meant was-"

Mr. Williams's eyes shut and he lets out a quiet cry of pain, gripping his ankle. I jump back in surprise, my arms flying to defend myself as if he would attack to release his pain and anger.