Tony enjoyed his job well enough, but getting out of the office and sauntering into the nearby park was a highlight for him each working day.
The city was a bustling, noisy place, but he left it all behind as he made his way across the expanse of lawn to the tree-lined area that gave good shade. A good place to eat his lunch and watch people. He had to look where he was putting his feet as he picked his way through the little gathered groups; some sitting, some standing, some just lying in the sun. He had not come here to do any of that; apart from eating his lunch he liked to watch people.
He regarded himself as something of an expert for somebody still in their teens on the subject and activity of watching people. He had been fascinated by this pastime as far back as he could remember. It was a self-evident fact that the more you did something the better you became at doing it. He liked to observe a person’s habits, their body movements, their emotions and attitudes. In a place like this he had so many subjects to choose from. He opened his plastic lunch box and started eating.
As usual, he had a very mixed crowd here today. Most of them were in their twenties and thirties he supposed, and most would be from office jobs around this part of the city. He took the scene in as he created categories in his head. Some would be single; some married. Some would be holding down some sort of managerial position, while others like himself, would be some kind of support staff in an office. As he scanned the park he found his attention coming back to one particular gentleman, sitting at the end of a bench not too far away; close enough for Tony to take in a lot of detail.
He was a distinguished looking man of about sixty. He had a full head of white and light grey hair swept back so that its length came to rest on his shoulders. He wasn’t wearing a suit, but some sort of dark, safari outfit. He was bent over a large leather document holder with ornate embossing and a dangling leather book mark. It lay on his lap, held with one hand, with the man staring down and occasionally looking up. Tony settled on studying him for no better reason that he was the most interesting subject within view.
He focused on what the man was doing. He would occasionally put marks down, then look up. It was fairly obvious he was sketching or drawing something. He was completely focused on what he was doing. Tony wondered what the man was actually capturing. Was it something here in the environment, or was it something he was clawing back from memory? It was hard to tell, and he knew he would have to see it to answer that.
Each time the artist looked up he seemed to be looking in a different direction, sometimes stroking a small, white goatee beard that Tony could see for the first time. From time to time he seemed to be swapping his pencil and using something small, like a piece of chalk or charcoal, then rubbing across the paper, maybe using his fingers to create shadow or shade.
He wondered how long the man had been an artist and how he had learnt his craft. He might be famous, you couldn’t tell; they didn’t get photographed like film or television celebrities, making them recognisable. No; but he certainly looked professional, famous or not.
Tony realised he had to move. This had been a really interesting lunchtime, with one of the best subjects he had ever been lucky enough to observe. All that remained for him to do was to get into a vantage point, so that he could see what the man was drawing. He would walk across to one side of where the man sat, then turn and go slowly along the back of the seat. As he manoeuvred his way past the bench, he glanced down to see what the man was drawing.
Tony’s heart sunk as he went on his way… he was doing a crossword!