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“Wow,” I whisper involuntarily.
“Do you like it?” he asks.
“Absolutely. This is stunning,” I whisper as I glance around in awe.
“You haven’t seen anything yet,” he says with a smile, leading me through one of the museum’s expansive halls. The scent of paint fills the air, mingling with the soft whispers of patrons, creating an atmosphere that feels both serene and charged with anticipation. My eyes sparkle with curiosity, eager to discover the masterpieces that lie ahead, as Jeffrey’s promises.
“Oh, my goodness.” I exclaim in awe as we make our first destination.
“This is the contemporary art wing,” Jeffrey announces, indicating the entrance. Vibrant canvases and avant-garde sculptures. Jeffrey guides me down the hallway until we come to a halt in front of a mesmerizing painting, its bold strokes and vivid colors stir emotions inside me.
“This is so beautiful. It feels like it’s trying to communicate something to me,” I say before glancing at Jeffrey.
He returns my gaze, his voice filled with a hint of admiration.
“Isn’t it fascinating how art has the power to evoke such strong emotions?”
I can’t help but nod in agreement, my eyes locked on the artwork.
“It’s like a window into the artist’s soul. I can almost feel their passion and expression come to life.”
“That’s the beauty of excellent artwork. This is one reason I love it so much,” he says.
“I’m guessing you’re trying to maintain appearances tonight,” I remark.
“Funny enough, that’s not the primary reason. I heard Mr. Lucas will be here tonight,” he replies, reminding me of the reason we are doing this in the first place.
“Oh.” Disappointment washes over me upon hearing this.
“Yes, I want him to see us together and send message to the press. Remember, we need to avoid suspicion,” he explains.
“Sure. So where is he?” I manage to force a smile.
“I haven’t seen him yet. He never misses this annual art exhibit, but this year will be different,” he says, disappointment evident in his voice.
“I don’t think it’s something we should worry about. We still have other opportunities to play our part,” I reassure him.
“You’re right. Let’s just enjoy this moment,” he agrees. I nod as we navigate through the exhibit. I can’t help but notice Jeffrey’s unwavering gaze upon me, leaving me curious about his thought.
My attention drifts away from him as we enter another hallway. My eyes sparkle with curiosity, eager to discover the masterpieces that await us in the room.
“So, Phebe, do you have a particular style of art that captivates you?”
“Oh, not really. I love beautiful artwork, but I’m particularly fascinated by impressionism. The way the artists capture fleeting moments and play with light and color—it’s like a dream materialized on canvas,” I explain with a smile.
“That’s wonderful! Let’s start with the impressionist wing then. I’d love to hear your thoughts on the pieces,” he suggests, and I happily oblige.
In no time, we arrive at the impressionist wing. My eyes widen in awe at the sight of Monet’s famous water lilies. I step closer, mesmerized by the brushstrokes.
“Monet’s water lilies are simply enchanting. Look how he captures the play of light and reflections on the water. It feels as though I could step right into the painting,” I eagerly shares with Jeffrey.
“I see what you mean. It’s like a peaceful sanctuary, isn’t it? Almost as peaceful as this moment right here, with you,” he remarks. His last words send a tingling sensation down my spine.
I manage to force a smile, though my cheeks are flushed.
“You always know just what to say.”
“Phebe, I never realized your love for art ran so deep. It’s like discovering a whole new side of you,” Jeffrey comments.
