Ash was greeted by dim lights and a long corridor. The pitch-black walls sucked in all the light from the entrance.

Her pacing was irregular as her attention was pulled in every direction by the acrylic skull depictions.

One painting showed a skull on a pedestal, elevated from the flush flora below.

Another a skull that appeared to be a deer or elk lying discarded on the floor of the ocean. Lithe fishes meandered through the hole in its eye sockets.

The ridges made by the paintbrush gave her insight into the human hand behind the artwork, a reminder of the time and thought an artist must put into a painting.

"Well, this piece seems to have caught your attention."

The man appeared suddenly in her peripheral vision. Eyeing him up and down, his fashion dress was first to catch her eye.

He wore a washed-out denim jacket over a white tee, with a red ascot and a navy blue beret.

His look was giving quintessential *artist*, broadcasting his desire to be externally recognized as such.

Her observation enforced by the paint stain on the left sleeve of his jacket.

“Are you curator here?”

She asked, without much expectation; the man’s demeanour felt casual and detached, much more like a fellow visitor than anyone with a vested interest.

“Ha, no, I’m just here to browse. Do you have recommendations?”

“Sorry, I just got here.”

She said so with a polite but alienating smile. Clearly indicating her desire to be left to her own devices.

“Great, then why don’t we see the exhibit together?”

Well, maybe not clearly enough.