i heard you can help me find what i’m looking for.
there is something off about this man. despite the tailored suit with a price tag enough to send shivers down most people's back, the fancy car that earns admiring glances from passerby near without fail, everything that affirms that he is someone who belongs in this world of high art and pretentious, snobby patricians, something tells her he’s anything but.
she cannot tell what it is yet.
is it the way he carries himself? the way shadow lightly sways in the depth of his eyes? the way that the same shadow tells her that if there's somewhere else he could be, he would be there in a heartbeat?
his hands.
yes, his hands.
they are too calloused. too rough around the edges for him to be one of them.
he is not one of those men who collects for a living or has all the time to squander on loitering about galleries and museums, but someone who works for them.
someone who squanders his own time for them.
someone who gets his own hands dirty for them.
what a pity.
she, too. what a pity indeed.
“depends on what you’re looking for.” is her crisp reply. a hint of a smile underlines her voice, before the corners of red lips lift in a calculated move. “but i’ve been told i’m a great searcher.” searcher. fabricator. it’s all the same. whatever it is that the seeker seeks, she will bring onto canvas and breathe life into with the strokes of genius. over-the-moon about the masterpiece they have managed to secure and can soon brag about to their impressionable friends, they will walk away satisfied, as will her greed. a temporary joy, but a joy nonetheless. it’s great doing business with you. my pleasure, always. with a smile practiced to perfection, she extends her hand earnestly, the trace of trepidation nowhere to be found on the beautiful façade. “choi hyejin, but you can call me lea. how can i help you?”
@deulgaae
