Kendall sighs as she walks around the museum. But it isn't a sigh of peace or relaxation, but rather a sigh of agitation.
"I should have known Gregory wasn't coming as well..." she mutters to herself. "No doubt he has a date." She shakes her head and strolls along. She then stops in front of a large painting. The picture is of a lovely path with a tunnel of beautiful flowers of purple and yellow overhead. Lush, tall, green grass and brilliant, floppy ferns run along the sandy-colored dirt path. The detail is remarkable as individual stones can be made out in the path.
"Oh..." she gasps to herself, glancing both ways before softly edging the corner of the frame upwards a smidge. "That's much better."
A picture like this, after all, deserved to be straight on the wall, not crooked. She doesn't want to say anything, but she had known the artist very well. It had been her cousin, Cherin.
Kendall remembers the day Cherin had painted it. She and her best friend, Sandra, had been on a field trip for university and Cherin had asked to tag along. Of course they let her come; she was practically their older sister. The three had went along with the tour, looking at the gardens before settling down for a garden-side picnic. It was during this that Cherin took out her paints and went at it, while the other two watched and commented and begged to know if they could help. Cherin would just laugh and shake her head, teasing them that if they continued they'd scare away the butterflies.
Kendall bites her tongue as she remembers the day Cherin pranced through their dorm, squealing about how her artwork had been accepted in a museum in Wales. They had all been excited. They had all been happy. They had all been together.
But that was all before Cherin's flight to Wales. That was all before the end.
She then turns away from the painting and walks away with a deep breath. She dabs the edges of her eyes with a handkerchief and sniffs. "If only she had taken the tram..." she whispers to herself. "Or a cab or anything else but that plane."
Kendall looks again at the painting, almost in anger. This was the reason her cousin was gone. This was why she can't confide in her anymore about boys and books and cats. This was why Kendall dislikes going on solitary stakeouts at art museums. This was why Kendall hates going to this particular museum.
This is why Gregory sent her there.
"Miss?"
Kendall turns away from the artwork and sees a small blonde girl, probably no more than six. "Oh, my apologies, was I blocking your view?" She smiles sadly and steps back.
"No, miss, I've been looking at this painting all day." The girl smiles widely. "But I haven’t ever seen anyone cry at it before. Why does it make you sad?"
"Well..." she says, bending over slightly to get to the girl's level. "You see, I had a friend once who painted similar pieces of art. She died a few years ago and this reminds me of her and so it makes me sad."
"Oh," she gasps, but nods understandingly. "If it makes you feel any better, miss..." She looks both ways and raises her hand to her mouth. Kendall turns her head so that she can reach her ear. "I think this one's my favourite," she then whispers.
Kendall bites her tongue and smiles at the girl, trying to keep from falling apart. "I think it is mine, too."
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