Night Court
by Katherine Shaw

Morgan was up front pulling a file when the lobby doors banged open in a huge gust of wind. Morgan straightened up with the file in her hand. "What was that?"

"I thought they fixed those doors," Barb said irritably. She was working the window, but there was no one in line now and she was playing solitaire on the computer.

The doors stayed open and the wind blew in steadily; the musty Municipal Court offices -- windows designed in the 1960s never to open -- at last received true fresh air. It was early spring and Morgan knew the weeping cherries outside were in full bloom. A few petals fluttered into the hallway, bringing with them the scent of a spring night.

Morgan thought suddenly of evenings on the family's houseboat when she was small, church picnics, drive-in movies, the spring break she'd spent at her cousin's farm, a night skinny-dipping with friends when she was in college. She hugged the file to her stomach. Why was she spending her days and two evenings a week in this building that smelled of floor polish and pink bathroom soap?

There was no fanfare, but the young man who stepped through the doors--still open and rocking gently in the breeze--stepped high like a drum major in a parade. He had long blond hair pulled back in a braid and his clothes looked like he'd dressed out of a costume shop--cheap red velvet breeches and jacket, and a bright green shirt underneath. He wore sandals.

He turned his head and flashed a smile--not at Barb, who was staring with astonishment and disapproval, but beyond her to Morgan. Morgan caught her breath. The man seemed to glow, as though he had brought moonlight with him to counter the lobby's flat fluorescent light.

He held up a green sheet of paper and let it unfold from his fingers, so that he was holding it by the top. His smile turned impish. "We have a court appearance," he said, and laughter trembled in his voice. Morgan often heard forced amusement from people trying to turn a citation into a joke, something unimportant they could laugh at. This was different. The man was still looking at her, and it seemed to Morgan that he was holding back a delicious, hilarious secret and inviting her to share it.

"Step to the window, please," Barb said. "You should have been at court when we opened at five-thirty. The judge may not have time to see you."

The man stepped forward, one giant step, and slid the citation across the counter to Barb. And behind him more people began to arrive.

It was clear they were with him. They all had odd clothes like his, bright and tawdry at the same time, and they all seemed more real than their surroundings. There were seven or eight of them: first two boys in matching red outfits similar to the young man's; then several girls, giggling together, their hair loose on their shoulders and twined with ribbons; then a couple more stately than the others, arm in arm. The man wore a midnight blue robe that made Morgan think of a priest's vestments; the woman wore a dress of the same color. Vines crowned her dark hair.

Morgan stared, and the group stopped in the lobby and looked around. The girls broke into fresh giggles, pointing at the painting of Judge Whitmer as though it was the funniest thing they'd ever seen. Morgan longed to hear what they were whispering to each other. But in the office behind her Irene was berating someone in her braying voice for not having exact change, and a phone was ringing insistently.

Barb hadn't noticed the group come in; she was looking at the citation. "I remember this one," she said in surprise. "Darlene told us about it when she typed it--remember, Morgan? The one about the people driving animals in the road?"
"No," Morgan said. She realized she was staring at the man in red and dropped her eyes hastily. She glanced back up for a moment to see if he'd noticed her staring, and he was smiling at her again.

"Oh, wait--you had a dentist appointment that afternoon. I remember. Look at this." Barb held the citation up and the man watched her with vast amusement as she read down the list of citations: "Driving animals in the road, reckless riding of animals, eight counts of leash law and city tags for the dogs, too many animals. Amazing." She handed the citation back to the man. "Go through those doors."

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