Quite a few heads turned that morning to watch the three people sitting on the old wooden benches. It almost would have been comedic if they weren't so stone-faced. Two Nuns, white habits and all, waited outside that courthouse with a boy. One of the women was large and soft faced; as she clutched a string of rosary beads her mouth danced rapidly, reciting in her native tongue. The other was small, her limbs thin and willowy. Her aged dark face was cast downwards and her hand was tightly held by the young boy next to her. He, believe it or not, was the oddest part of this picture. He had strong features, intense eyes and a heavy brow, but only seemed to be about fourteen or fifteen. People's eyes drew instantly to his brown curls that had been slicked down and dived so the straight panel of his part was visible. The triad seemed nervous but stable. All morning people passed, lawyers, judges, the occasional secretary but no one called for them. The pudgy little receptionist kept his eye on the three as he worked; worried they may be some elaborate terrorist group or something of that nature. He watched too many news reports obviously.
The old small nun started the noise; it came from deep in her throat and sounded out as a haunting tune. The larger one joined in by launching into the words of a hymn. The boy swayed, still holding the hand of his companion, humming along. The secretary gasped at the disturbance and considered calling security but being from a god-fearing household himself he didn't dare stop this. This went on... and on... until a smartly dressed lawyer came to collect them for their trial.
