Art had always been of interest to her. There had been many afternoons in their childhood that Greg had taken her to the galleries of London on free days instead of heading straight home after school. He’d buy them a hot dog to share outside the gallery, before stepping inside. They’d then close their eyes and each put a finger somewhere on the gallery map and those would be the two rooms they’d explore. It had created some of her best childhood memories. And on occasion as adults they had returned to this ritual, particularly when one or the other was going through a tough time…divorce…break up…death. In fact the last time Greg and her had gone had been a few months back, about a month after the death of the detective. He’d talked for several hours about his friend while Samantha listened quietly. This memory drifted through her mind and she brushed it away, looking back at the piece before her.
She gazed at the brush strokes, wanting nothing more than to reach out and touch the piece. She had always wanted art to be experience by more than just one of her senses, but social norms stopped her from giving into that particular want. She was dressed for vacation, in her white sundress and wedged sandels. She’d been there a few days alright, given the light bronze hue her sunkissed skin had taken. Rupert mentioned something about heading to the bathroom and she nodded, not even turning to look in his direction. Trapped in the pull of the painting.
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Last edited by Samantha Lestrade on Mon Sep 03, 2012 2:55 am; edited 1 time in total