Anything but a still-life

The clicking of her heels stretched out against the gravel steps. Although they were muffled by the sounds of nature, the bury of silence made possible the twang of her heels. She carried an umbrella, the way a damsel would. Striding down the botanical gardens she took one last breath before exiting the stone path. She turned, allowing the sun's rays to cascade down her red locks, forcing the twinkle in her eye. She turned away from the scenery. Walking past the wisps of insects awakening, the wallows of the sparrows and continued down to the gallery. Her hat was tilted but she could still make out the silhouette of detective Zoe, whose dreadlocks were pinned neatly in a bow.

"You don't seem nervous at all." The detective crossed her arms.

Walking next to her she said,"  Being nervous won't solve anything."

She stood, shoulder to shoulder with the detective. "Is it busy inside?"

The detective puffed. "Of course it is, it's filled with astrocytes and critics."

She smiled, her red lips glinted with delight. She started towards the entrance. Her heels grew in confidence. Another rose has left the garden and is entering anew. She tilted her head," Detective?"The detective took one last look at the orchard, as of breathing in the sight. She puffed and walked side by side with her partner.

A particular critic caught her attention. He was silently scrutinizing a sculpture with a twitched eyebrow. He had an aura that carried wealth, a demeanour that was well-mannered. When speaking to people he didn't smile, he nodded with a freshness carried by businessmen. He was tall, the type of man that got better with age. Although his hair was white his skin was clear, his beard neatly trimmed. She didn't need to make her way towards him, as he noticed her first. Who wouldn't? In this Red Gallery opening, she was the reddest and rarest of them all.

"Madam Alice?" His voice was unexpectedly sweet, like a dessert with an unforgettable aftertaste. He held her hand gently and kissed her in greeting. "Faire la bise, Monsieur Besson."He smiled. "Call me Charles."

 She led him to a section of the gallery, less populated. "What brings you here Charles?" She stopped in front of an artwork. It was an abstraction made by an upcoming artist. Abstractions were always more interesting to decipher, as each person had their own idea of it and yet it carried maybe only one message.

"This might sound absurd but I knew you'd be here."

 He scanned the artwork. "Not only does the colour red symbolize passion, but also Mystery."He grabbed a wine glass from a waiter walking passed. "It sort of embodies my idea of you."

She smiled, bemused by his perceptions. "Am I mysterious and passionate?"

 Knowing her history with the man, she could sense the sexual tension in the air. "You are."

 He said without looking at her. "Tell me." He turned to her, and she kept facing the artwork. "What do you wish to accomplish with this opening?"

 She looked at him from the corner of her eye, teasingly like she used to. "It's a key to a Pandora's box I've sought to close." She turned to take his wine glass out of his hand.

Seductively she took a sip while looking him in the eye. "Maybe, I'll solve a mystery."