I walked around the art gallery of a man who claimed to be a patron of the arts. He had not taste, only focusing on modern art and plain portraits.

I scoffed at one painting, portraying a naked woman in a field. What a mediocre addition to art. It was simply pornography at this point.

I eventually sat down on a bench, scrolling through the missed calls on my phone. They were all from my ex-girlfriend, desperate for us to get back together again.

Just as I was about to call her back, the sound of a piano started to play. It was a fast and exciting melody, one only a professional could play.

“Rondo Alla Turca…” I murmured as I stood up.