The museum was far from crowded, hushed talking echoing along the marble, footsteps resounding as thunder from the steps, and lights highlighting the artwork on the walls. She was smiling slightly, eyes beaming with glee that we had come here. She was an art lover without experience, Christy. Much like myself, her idea of fine art fell into two categories: what she would hang on her wall at home and what she would not.

That’s one of the things I like about her. She is not pretentious at all. She’s simple and sweet, though it does make me carry a lot of conversations. I hooked my arm around hers, my black sleeve harsh against her green. She looked up at me and smiled, her eyes beaming. I can’t describe those eyes well. Perhaps they are hazel, or maybe green, or even both. All I know is they are beautiful when framed by her tight curled black hair.

‘I really like this one. I don’t know why, though. It just makes me feel… something.’

‘Well, as long as it does that, then it’s doing it’s job’ gazing at the sad woman in the painting. She looked sad to me, anyways. Maybe she was just bored. Her eyes followed me around the room, at any rate. We ambled along hand in hand or arm in arm, passing more paintings, statues, and digital experiences.

‘I wish I could paint. It looks so fun.’

‘Well, I can’t paint at all. I once bought a canvas, brushes, and some oils. Then I learned I suck at it, but it was fun. You should give it a go. Need a hobby anyways, right?’

‘I can’t do that like you can.’

‘Why not? Just get up and try. Thanks to that I can ballroom dance, play guitar, and bake my own bread. Only thing stopping you is you, Christy.’ while standing before a portrait of Abraham Lincoln. He was one ugly dude, I decided. I found it interesting how different people look now. It hardly seems we’re of the same species at times.

‘I tried to learn guitar once, but I was bad at it. I eventually gave up. It’s my fingers, really. They’re short!’

‘Well, you can buy one with a thinner neck if you want to. They make guitars specially for women now. They’re smaller and lighter. Cost a bunch, though.’

‘I might do that’ she told a depiction of the crucifixion. People milled about, mostly students on a field trip, hardly paying attention to the art. I wrapped my arms around her then, just below her breasts, and kissed her on the cheek with my chin resting on her shoulder. She leaned her head into mine, a hug as best she could manage from this vantage point.

Somehow I knew things would not last.