The Painting
Cassie sighed as she slid the last of the reports into the manila envelope. She pushed it aside and propped her head on her hands, indulging herself in a rare moment of introspection during these last few idle moments before quitting time. Her mind returned to the picture she’d seen, that oddly disturbing piece hanging in the gallery next door to her office. She’d thought it pretty a week ago, when they first displayed it, propped in the shadows in the display window, black velvet blocking out all light except the spotlight illuminating the picture. The display was designed to draw the eye in, to focus the gaze on the art and Cassie had been attracted to the deep colors and fantastic setting.
That was a week ago. Now she found herself standing mesmerized in front of the window three times a day. She’d had to start getting up early to make it to work on time, and her trips outside the office for lunch were dedicated to the picture. Her trip home was the hardest. It was bad enough the first couple of days, but she’d missed the last train home two days ago, and she’d started dreaming about the picture. Cassie rubbed her eyes and sat back in her chair. The dreams weren’t disturbing her rest, though when she woke up in the mornings all she could think about was the picture. She shook her head and reached for her purse, gathering her things on auto pilot as she tried to suppress the obsessive need to get downstairs and see the picture.
Cassie stepped off the elevator and headed across the lobby, trying not to hurry as she pushed her way through the revolving door. She blinked as she stepped into the late afternoon sun and turned to walk toward the gallery. A few steps brought her to the window and she gasped as she looked upon an empty black display. The picture was gone. She struggled for a moment to conquer the surprising wave of despair that threatened to overwhelm her, then she turned and stumbled down the street and away, walking aimlessly her mind reeling. When had she become so dependent on seeing that picture? How could a piece of art in a window have such a profound effect on her. Tears rolled unheeded down her face and her shoulders shook with the chaotic emotions struggling to be released.
She came to herself as she collided forcefully with a passerby. She ignored the man’s muttered expletive as she looked around. Cassie recognized the entrance to the train platform through her still-teary eyes and she stepped into the street to cross over. She never heard the screeching tires or felt the impact of the bus. A crowd gathered around her lifeless body sprawled on the pavement, and she looked down at herself with faint surprise. She turned away from the crowd and spied a ripple in the distance. She stepped toward it, and it loomed immediately before her. She followed the path across the water without thought, smiling with pleasure as she spied the bottle in the water and the familiar vistas of the painting. She scooped the bottle up, cradling it reverently as she mounted the steps to the open door. She didn’t spare a glance back as she crossed the threshold, leaving her life behind.