Jury duty

It's 9:00am on a Tuesday morning and here I am, sitting waiting for jury duty to start with almost 80 other people here. There are big people, skinny old people who look like they don't have teeth. Young trendy people. Two priests. Three men in ties. And half a dozen or so asleep, with their heads balanced on the wall or their chest.
The florescent lights penetrate the air. The noise of throat clearing, pages, turning and the vending machine air compressor humming. The droning feeling makes my eyes heavy, my thought light.
There is a women, in periwinkle blue, that sits across from me. He butt is squeeze into those jeans that are an unnatural denim blue, tapering at the ankles to show her black socks and white running shoes, though she obviously doesn't run. Her upper thighs spill over the edge of the chair. Her loosely fitted shirt shows her bulges above and below her bra. The short sleeves show her upper arm fat cascading over her elbow.
Her hair is mousey with hints of gray.