Stranger to stranger

RED

Fourth period got me looking at the clock every five minutes. It's 2:10 and the chemistry teacher is waving his moustache around trying to teach us something relevant. Really, no one's listening at all. We're all just listening to the clicking sound of the needles filling the room. Everybody is just waiting for the bell to ring to escape. Personally, I only have 8 minutes left now. I could leave 5 minutes early right? 5 minutes never hurt anybody. I look around and see those bored faces looking at the teacher. They all stare but do not listen. It seems like they're looking through him in a way. He's a ghost talking to a bunch of walls. Nobody is even slightly reacting to the information he's giving us. Everybody looks so tired and exhausted from the homework and papers they have to do in a 24 hour period. I also feel bad for the teacher. He seems like somebody that tries really hard to keep us entertained, but nobody is mentally awake enough to see it. I look over at the clock and it's now 2:14 PM. I slowly raise my head for the teacher to see. He stops talking to listen to what I have to say. I simply explain that I have an appointment at the dentist for 2:30 and, to make it in time, I'll have to leave. He agrees and I walk across the room to pass through the door frame into the corridor. It feels good to be out of there. One thing led to another and I'm waiting on a stool for my bus to arrive. The bus is already late. It'll be a long 20 minutes, I can feel it.

I look at the sign in front of me to read 'Welcome to In our minds gallery'. Here I finally am, ready to enter this building keeping a letter that was written for me. It looks pretty boring from the outside to be honest. All I see is a plain white building. I expected something more colorful and unique for an art gallery. Two perfectly cut circles in two different trees on each side of the door. The closer I get to the doors, the more I notice how big they are. Their length is three times mine. They're made from clear glass and white wood. The collons following the walls of the building give off a Romanian aesthetic. I open a door frame cut into the big doors. I feel like I'm Alice in Wonderland. The inside is a burst of color and abstract forms. 3D poles are going from one wall to another while making all sorts of twirls. Circles, squares and triangles of different sizes are drawn on the walls. To get to the second and third floor. You have to use a see-through elevator that goes up into the ceiling. The first floor's roof is very high and I wonder if all the others are the same. I understand now why the outside was boring. It was to keep the wow factor for the inside only. It represents the name 'In our minds'. I could start on the last floor to slowly get back to the first one. I'll have to be very very observant and alert for any signs of a possible letter hidden. I watch the crown get lost under me as I go up the elevator into a total darkness. It lasts for about 2 seconds before I see the second floor. It's all that the first floor isn't. It's filled with dark colors such as black and grey. It seems very structured and simplified. The crowd gets lost under my feet again and I disappear into darkness for a few seconds. The elevator doors open for me to step out. The third floor is concentrated on nature's colors like dark green, brown, beige and a little bit of blue. It's less creative than the first floor and less structured than the second floor. Most of the art here represents aspects of nature such as humans, plants and landscapes. But, some natural and common aspects of life itself are shown too. Just like a kid learning what the basics of life are. Love, family, friends and nature. As I walk, I see sculptures, paintings and descriptions or stories written on walls. Some of them are touching, some of them are happy and some of them are heartbreaking. One of the stories explains the life of a little boy who loved landscapes so much he would always draw them. Each year his drawing got messier and messier. He became slowly blind at the age of eight. When he turned nine years old, he saw his last landscape. Now all he draws are black circles. One of his black circles was in a frame hung on the wall next to his story. It's sad how people don't get to see all the beauty around us. Some would kill to have functioning eyes, but some won't even take the time to sit and observe while they can. We don't appreciate things just as much as when we lose them. The world is really quite beautiful, isn't it? The trees swirling around to follow the wind's dance. Leaves slowly falling in twirls and the sun going down to show a small portion of the million stars that surround us. I never really understood how much beauty there is in nature until I saw the pictures painted on the walls. They have sunsets, clouds, flowers, stars, the sun, the moon and many others. They even have a couple kissing as they grab each other's face in complete passion. Behind them, a dark gold Square is surrounding them. Even them have small gold details. It's gorgeous and makes you feel a portion of the love they must feel. Love is part of the human's nature. My heart is warmer as I watch this image. I look for the artist' name, but only the painting's title is written next to it: 'Here we meet again'. I look back to the painting and look at their faces closely. From the side we can't quite distinguish the brown haired boy features. It reminds me of John and his wife's meeting on the plane. I tilt my head as a reflex from all the thinking. I'm sure John would love this painting. If only we were allowed to take pictures here. I would have shown him on my way back. I turn my head to my right to continue walking. Where would the stranger hide his letter? What could be related to him in any way? And then, it hits me. John  is the only thing I know is related to the stranger. He wouldn't have made me meet him or read his book if it was for nothing. It must have something to do with the other letter. In the book, the two lovers meet again, just like the painting. I go back to where I was, in front of the painting. Where would he hide the letter? Around the painting, maybe? I look on every border the canvas could have but nothing. No sign of a certain writing anywhere. I look in the title if there's a hidden message, but everything seems normal. I hate to admit it, but I'll have to touch the painting. I have to look behind the canvas. I look around for anysing of life that could probably see me. There's nobody else in this room but me. I haven't noticed, but with the bus arriving late and all the looking around, I have thirty minutes left to find the letter. Most people have already left and I'll have to do the same soon. Everybody is now downstairs, I suppose. It doesn't matter anyway. I need to do this quickly before anybody comes in. I take another look around to make sure I'm alone. There's still nobody but me in here. What can happen to somebody getting caught touching a painting in an art gallery? I don't want to know. I get closer to the painting. I take a deep breath to calm down before I lay my fingers on its surface. There's no backing up now. I lift the painting a bit to get it off the wall and lay it on the floor face down. I was right, there's a letter taped to its back. A little buzzing noise makes its way to my ear. It's the elevator coming up. I quickly take the letter in my hands to put it in my back pocket. I take the painting and hang it on the wall. I barely have the time to tilt the canvas for it to be straight before the elevator is fully on the third floor. I turn around to see a guard behind the opening doors. He walks up behind me and I'm forced to look him in the eyes. He looks intrigued but quite serious. I smile innocently since I don't know what else to do.