Muse

8

I'd never thought I'd find myself here on my day off. On a Saturday, you'd think I'd possibly be having brunch with friends, eating some avocado toast sprinkled with feta, drinking orange juice in a champagne glass and enjoying some time socially. It would be really nice right now, to have a distraction and actually find a bond with people. Working five days a week, which for most people is a normal week. I become so tired and decide to hide away in my apartment safely tucked away with Blossom. As much as I'm at work all week and blame it for my lack of social life, I know that it's me who needs to actually go out and socialise. A weird concept to wrap my head around.

I stare up at the artworks plastered across the walls, sitting in their usual spots. I'm used to seeing them everyday, but hiding behind a desk really blurs my vision, the chore of being there to work distracts me from the beauty I'm constantly surrounded by.

Trudging my jacket that's threaded through the bag slung around my shoulder, strolling peacefully through the corridors filled with creations made by those with the same genetic make up. It's bewildering to think how different people are capable of different things. Talent and creativity are really intriguing traits, the output of those let you see into the soul of a person.

Walking around one of the many corners, I expect to see the artwork I've missed out on seeing all but one time. Thomson's Aeolian Harp, JMW Turner's sneak peak into his talented mind. To my dismay, the painting that once hung there – grand in its presentation and visual aesthetics – was replaced by a modern contemporary piece. It's orange and pink lines into shapes brightly contrasting the work that once hung in its place. It's a lovely piece, yet the disappointment deeply rooted itself into my mind. I've waited a while to see this painting, usually never coming in when I'm not working. I wanted to find out where it had gone, maybe they moved it? I did not, however, want to speak to Aaron. He had treated me coldly when I returned with his coffee. Normally he'd make a few snide remarks, yet he would at least speak to me. He was silent when I entered his office, not even commenting on something trivial that I'm sure I had wrong with me that day. My gut told me something bad was coming, that he had something in store for me.

I was snapped out of my thoughts when a tall figure appeared beside me, resting his hand on his chin to mock the state of being in deep thought. "You know, I'm pretty sure there was another painting here the other day."

I was about to ask him what he was doing here. That's a mistake I've learned from.

"Yeah the one I told you about," I frown, looking at the canvas that hung in its place. "have you come to mourn it too?"

"There's nothing for me to mourn about." He remarks, lifting his hand up from his chin. Today he was wearing a black baggy sweater with colourful graphics printed on the front, pants that loosely fit around his legs with sneakers resting on his feet. An all black outfit went with his dark eyes and hair. Hair that now fully swept over his forehead with the absence of hair gel. Accessorising with a gold chain necklace. A completely different vision to what he was whenever I saw him in the past few days. Which was a lot coincidentally, since I'd never seen him before that. He looks up broadly to the canvas in front of us, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He mumbles. "I actually have it at home."

"What like a copy of it?" I smile, turning toward him and crossing my arms over my chest as well. "Is it because I said I liked it?"

"No I uh," He uncrosses his arms and scratches the back of his head and turns toward me, scrunching his face up in a sarcastic way. "I kinda bought it. At the auction the other day."

My mouth dropped slightly open and my eyes widened, I tried to suppress the surprise my body wanted to physically tell. That painting is worth a fortune, an original from 1809. Why on earth did Aaron think it was a good idea to sell it, to someone as young as Alex. He must have some kind of money to be able to afford it, like he was window shopping and decided he wanted 'that one'.

"You bought it? What for?" I couldn't contain my curiosity, maybe he would give me answers since he was the one initiating the conversation. His tone of voice seemed more laid back, less strain on his vocal chords, than it had been when I'd seen him previously.

"I did my research. I saw they were putting the piece on auction and knew it was a once in a lifetime opportunity. I can appreciate good art when so see it you know." He shrugs like it wouldn't have cost tens of thousands of pounds. "I didn't know it was your favourite until after I bought it."

"Would that have made a difference anyway?" I question, a once in a lifetime opportunity I would expect him to purchase it – dare he had the means to.

"No." He states bluntly, looking back up to the painting and remaining quiet whilst observing the canvas. I turn back to the canvas as well, taking the cue that the conversation was over. I wondered if I'd ever be able to see that painting again, or if I'd just have to find a new one to admire. I hear him shuffle, his footsteps slowly getting quieter and quieter until I look back to see if he was maybe still in the little room. He wasn't. A strange interaction, that left me with more questions than when I saw that the painting was no longer in its normal place.

•••

I walk past the front reception desk, the one I'm usually stationed at to see two different ladies sitting there. The weekend receptionists just because it's a requirement that Lottie and I have the weekend off. If it wasn't a requirement, I'm sure Aaron would have us on 24/7 if he could. I exit through the front doors, the cold afternoon breeze giving me a rude shock, the wind encompassing my entire face as I can feel it in my eyelids, on the tip of my nose and the lobes of my ears. I swiftly put my coat back on, yet wished I had brought a beanie to cover my freezing head.

"Veronica." I hear Alex call out to me, he hadn't actually left the gallery but was standing outside having a cigarette. He flicks it away onto the concrete and squashes it with his foot. "About your offer, was that still on the table?"

"Yeah, of course." I blurt, not even giving a moment for my brain and mouth to connect in symphony.

"Great, thank you." He steps closer, a small breath escaping his mouth as exposed by the coldness in the wind. "I would love to have a second chance in this place, I think we got off on the wrong foot."

I look up at him, his face turning red from the sheer roughness of the English weather. I attempt to form a smile, given my lips are almost about to fall off my face. "Everyone deserves a second chance, right?"

"Right," He pulls out a beanie from his back pocket and swiftly placed it upon his head. "I'll see you on Tuesday at Claude's. Normal time. You better get inside before the cold gets you."

He turns around quickly before I can say anything in response. Normal time? I've only ever seen him twice there and they were both at completely different times of the day. I open my mouth to speak, but realise he's too far gone to call out. He moves quickly, evidently.