What's in your (he)art

(He)art

Kiah checked herself out in the small mirror. It was haphazardly leaned against the wall; Kiah had to squat a little to see her full frame in it. She straightened out her tie and made sure her crimson button-up was tucked neatly into her black high-waist pants. A little voice in the back of her mind kept telling her the outfit would be too formal for attending an art exhibition – she'd look out of place, people would stare at her, her body wasn't made for such clothes. With a deep sigh, she focused on pushing those thoughts away and replacing them with something more positive. It was a new thing for her – dressing up, letting herself be seen instead of always hiding in the crowds. Blending in was her comfort zone and she wanted to change that. Her willingness didn't stop her anxiety from acting up, unfortunately. Without wasting any more time Kiah put on her blazer and made her way out.

The ride to her destination turned out to be a smelly old cab.

Don't they have safety regulations or something for these things???

She thought to herself while trying to touch as little of the inside of the vehicle as possible. If a truck was to hit them at that moment they definitely wouldn't survive. The old car was more a metal cage than anything. At least they would find her body in her best clothes. The thought was accompanied with a slight chuckle to herself.

  Finally, she was standing in front of the gallery. The building's architecture was distinctly modernist.

It brought back memories of her.

Kiah's heart constricted, causing a painful pang. She hadn't been to the gallery ever since...she left. All too painful memories continued to flood her mind. She helplessly wondered how much longer she would have to feel like this – months had passed already. Fighting through her overwhelming need to go home and curl into a ball, she made her way inside the gallery.

  Tall white walls surrounded her – some looking as if they had been randomly placed all about the place. She walked around a single wall that stood about 6 ft tall causing it to tower over Kiah by a few inches. On it hung a guitar – its three thickest strings broken. The voice in her head had been right – most of the people there wore more casual clothing. The only thing keeping her from leaving were a couple with such outlandish outfits they absorbed all of the attention of strangers' wandering eyes and the fact that she had paid a lot for the ticket.

Wallowing in your own sadness at home for months saved you a surprising amount of money.

Her destination was clear – the wine table. Enjoying art is always better when you're slightly tipsy. Ignoring the implication of the statement, she downed a glass and took another to sip on.

Kiah was in no way an art critic. Frankly, she simply enjoyed the peace of galleries. She could stand there, observing art with no one to bother or judge her. Also – it was a great excuse to drink in public and not look like a miserable alcoholic. Which she definitely was not...or at least that's what she told herself. A place to just be in silence. Except apparently, it was not.

"It's an exceptional piece, isn't it?"

A deep feminine voice came from beside her.  Truthfully she hadn't paid actual attention to the painting. She was just mindlessly staring at it, her mind somewhere far away. Kiah focused her gaze on it to actually take it in. It hurt. Something about the colors, the setting, it all reminded of her. Tears threatened to spill so she averted her gaze from the painting to the source of the mysterious voice. In front of her stood a woman – tall with blonde hair, strikingly blue eyes and features so sharp they could cut. For a moment Kiah could just stand there, insecurity and anxiety overwhelming her.

"It is. It – uh – it holds so much emotion. I actually got a little overwhelmed looking at it."

She smiled at the woman and sipped on her wine nervously. No one usually approached her at such events. It was supposed to be her 'me time' and people interrupting it felt frustrating. Although she could definitely make an exception for such a striking woman.