I’m wandering through this quiet art gallery, taking in the paintings, but my mind’s drifting, like usual. It’s one of those days where I just want to soak in the quiet. The hum of life. That’s when I see her.

She’s standing in front of a painting, completely absorbed. Her posture is relaxed, but there’s something magnetic about her—like she’s not just looking at the art but lost in it. The way she tilts her head slightly, her calm energy, how she seems totally in her own world... It’s refreshing. She’s not here to be seen, not here for anyone else—just for herself, and that’s rare.

I can't help but keep glancing at her as I move through the room. There's something about her presence. The way she seems so effortless, so genuine. She’s got this vibe—quiet, but powerful. It’s like she’s radiating calmness and I’m pulled right in. I start wondering who she is, what her story is, what’s going on in her mind as she looks at that piece of art.

I hesitate for a moment, not wanting to interrupt her space. But something in me pushes forward. I walk up slowly, keeping it casual, and stand next to her, just enough to share the moment. I glance at the painting, then back at her.

“I’m not sure if I’m more interested in the art or the way you’re looking at it,” I say with a soft smile, my voice low so it doesn’t disturb the calm. It’s genuine—I really mean it. There’s something special in the way she’s taking it all in.

I wait, heart beating a bit faster than usual, hoping she’ll smile back.