John Doe

Mr. Doe

The stranger had soft, sloppy hazel brown hair, which suited him handsomely, contrasting with his strange bright lilac eyes. His features were pristine - sharp cheekbones jutting out like daggers, full, faded pink lips smirking amiably -  and structured wonderfully, as though he had been sculpted by the graceful hands of Michelangelo himself. Oh, god. I'm so cheesy. Shut up, Jennifer, shut up! There's a stranger in your house, for Christ's sake. 

I stared helplessly at him, eyebrows raised as I gaze at his cozy, smug position on my couch, potato chips and chocolate-chip cookies, from my pantry, surrounding his slouched figure. 

"Hi." He said, stuffing more snacks and junk into his already full mouth. 

I inhaled, only achieving to breathe inward about half way, and then cocked my head, "Hello."

He grinned widely at my response and went back to his eating, crossing both feet as he placed them atop my coffee table. Who the hell does this nutjob think he is?

"Can I help you?" I asked with a shrug. 

My mind strained its very ability, attempting to remind me of my current reality. There was a handsome stranger in my house, eating my food and I wasn't freaking out. What is wrong with me? 

He smiled and shook his head, "Sorry, I'm quite rude." He quickly leaped to his feet, leaving the chips behind, politely I suppose, and swaying over to me.

His body was marvelous.

He was muscular, in a way that wasn't too overpowering, but just right, with slender, pale arms, and presumedly wonderful abs, at least by the looks of his physique and his manner of moving. 

My eyes widened and I nodded slowly, trying my best to inform him, 'Yes, you are being rude'. He brushed his hand onto his strange black jeans and gray trench coat, then held it out to me. 

I shook it awkwardly, my eyes narrowing as they fixated on his expression still, so very blissful and cheery it pissed me off. He dropped my hand carelessly, and then sprinted back to the - my - couch, climbing and maneuvering so that he ended up standing proudly on its cushions. 

"I meant for them to keep you longer." He chuckled, and plummeted downwards, his bottom plonking onto the sofa, while his legs flew out from under him, his body bouncing as he landed - so very much like a child I had to stifle an exasperated snort. 

I shook my head in confusion, instead, and decided to question what exactly was currently happening. "Excuse me?" I asked softly, still utterly perplexed by his previous comment.

He shrugged, turning his attention to the TV screen, of which I hadn't even noticed was on. Well, great. Very observant, Jen. Good job. It was broadcasting the Sci-Fi channel, bearing the image of a redheaded, elderly lady, speaking somewhat intelligently about UFOs. 

"Bull!" He yelled at the screen causing me to leap in my stance at the sudden outburst. I pursed my lips in irritation and narrowed my eyes at his expression, of which seemed mighty passionate for such an arbitrary topic. 

"That's ridiculous. They do not look like that." He snorted and ran a hand through his hazel, floppy hair. 

I blinked and moved from my position by the door, of which I had been in since returning home, and instead joined him on the couch, plopping down slowly, my eyes refraining from budging, content with simply staring at the odd stranger. 

"Keep me longer?" I questioned, swallowing thickly, and attempting to refer back to what he'd said before.

"Aw, yeah!" He exclaimed and stared at me happily. I raised my eyebrows in confusion.