The road from Vegas to New York is a long one. Leon learns this the hard way when he decides to make the trip in an old, beat-up Buick. The old CDs in the glove compartment seem to be all he has except for parking tickets and a package of beef jerky that expired about five years ago. Due to rain and engine problems, he arrives at his destination a week later instead of five days as planned.

Traveling across the country is nothing out of the ordinary for him, considering how long he has been doing this sort of thing. Stealing art from famous, old, and not so artists was also quite common, since his clients paid him an almost obscene amount of money for successful cases.

The first thing he always does is to check into the most decent hotel room in city, rented for him by his generous clients. Then he arrives on the day of the exhibition and takes stock of the surroundings. Naturally, he wears his best rental suit, which he has never returned, in order not to stand out too much among the snobbish crowd.

At first, Leon's gaze falls on one of the largest portraits hanging in the center—the one he was supposed to take out. It took him a moment to realize that the exhibition, by a probably famous photographer he had never heard of, was entirely devoted to one person who was shown in all the pictures. Normally, he had never been interested in what exactly was depicted on the canvases he was about to steal, but this time a delicate figure clearly caught his attention.

Now, instead of the squeak of exhaustion from the long drive, he hears his heartbeat rumbling in his ears as if it were about to burst his eardrums. His blurry gaze is drawn away from the person in the photograph as he finally sees you—not a black and white photograph on the wall, but a real person. You stood there like one of the pieces on display, clearly catching more than just his attention, considering how many people surrounded you. And in that moment Leon seems to forget why he was even there in the first place.