17:24
The sound of your heels clicking against the sidewalk is what kept you focused. You needed to get to the art center before it closed. Damn your stupid ADHD. Your appointment with the curator was at seventeen thirty and you was going to be late.
You are going to be late. The sound of your footsteps speed up and you started counting them. One, two, three...
Never mind the sound of the people on the street and never mind their judgment. You needed to be at your appointment on time.
Twenty, twenty-one, twenty-five-
Wait. Check the watch again.
17:28
You broke into a sprint. The art center was just at the end of this block. You can make it. Clutching your leather bound notebook tighter to your side, you force your legs to go faster.
"Watch it!" An angry man yells after you as you rush by him.
You look back but don't stop. A bouquet of brightly coloured fresh flowers now lays on the ground at his feet. "Sorry!" You call. He glares.
There it is! You slow down just on time to burst through the swinging glass doors of the art center.
17:30
You let out a deep breath. Made it. There are plushy red seats over near the front desk. You'll go sit there after you check in, you decide. Taking a deep breath you make your way over to the counter and lean over it, peering at the young woman operating a computer. "Hi." You smile at her, placing your notebook on the counter.
She peers up at you. "Hello." She smiles kindly. "How may I help you?"
"I'm here to see Mr. Roussel." You say. "He's the curator. I have an appointment with him at five thirty."
"Alright." The smile never leaves her red painted lips as she types something into her computer. "Are you presenting some art?" She asks eagerly.
"Yep." You smile and sweep your notebook up off the counter and wave it back and forth slightly. "I hope he'll like it."
"I'm sure he will." She smiled. "Take a seat; he'll be with you in a minute."
You nodded your thanks and sat on the nearest red seat. Your heart was still pounding in your throat from the running.
"I'm never going to run like that again." You whisper to yourself as you settle into the chair.
As you wait, your eyes skim the entrance lobby. All sorts of different people mill around, speaking in hushed voices. There are certain people who capture your attention. People like the old man standing in the corner staring up at an oil painting of Florence.
Or,
A pale woman is contemplating a bronze statute shaped like a man on his bike, but only when you look at it from a certain angle. She twist her yellow plait around her hand round and round. The statue seems to be worrying her. Perhaps she recognizes the man. Perhaps she knew him in another life. Or maybe the statue comes alive at night and they have a love afair! Or-!
"Miss (L/n)?" A sophisticated voice pulls you from your exciting thoughts. That story was really getting intense. But it'll have to wait; you have more important things to do at the moment. Things like present your art work to the curator. You look up and find yourself reflected in unsettling gray eyes.
"Mr. Roussel, I suppose." You stand up and extend your hand.
He takes it gingerly then eyes the floor. "Is that yours?" He releases your hand and places both of his behind his back.
YOU ARE READING
Two Worlds (Hetalia X Reader)
Fanfiction(Prussia X Reader) Painting the constellations has always been your passion... and you wanted that passion to be shared with the world. After that dream is brutally crushed, you discard your artwork and think nothing of it... until appears once aga...
