Jess knew nothing about art but she knew what she liked. And what she liked was the man standing next to an abstract piece that could have been painted by a child. She thought about crossing the gallery to approach him, but only in the same way she thought about quitting her job, or winning money.
Instead, she studied him from afar – his form, lines, texture – and for a delicious moment she pictured him framed by her bed head. Then he smiled delightedly and kissed a man flush on the lips and Jess realised why art was never her thing.
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