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 After a long week in the office, Oliver pushed his way onto the Friday afternoon busy subway. Even though the weather was warm, he just wasn't in the mood to do the usual Brooklyn Bridge walk all the way home to his brownstone. While riding, Oliver was reflecting back on the hard week, actually the hard month. Even though he is a six figure employee, he feels he is too devoted to his job because he never gets out to do anything fun. He thinks all he needs is some excitement in his life. After getting off the train and still having to walk 3 blocks, he arrived at his front door. Going through his normal routine, he used his left hand to reach into the mailbox and his right hand to insert the key into the deadbolt. Oliver walked into his home, flipping through bill after bill, as Beamer, Olivier's cat, purred around his ankles, there was an unusual chocolate brown envelope with beautiful penmanship in gold ink mixed into the mail. Suddenly, the bills had no interest to Oliver as they landed on the foyer table next to teal-green vase. He opened up the pretty little envelope. It was an invitation! An art opening, tonight! Tonight? Being that he just received it,"it must have been lost in the mail" Oliver said to himself. It was at that point he noticed, it was addressed to his neighbor, Lucas. Disappointed, he stood up to take the letter over to him, as Beamer hopped off his lap and onto the coffee table, Oliver thought for a second... I can't stand Lucas. He's an asshole! He and his gay friends are all assholes. Why should I give him my invitation? It came to my address anyway. He set the invite down and went into the kitchen to open his Friday night bottle of Pinot. Looking back across the room at the opened invitation laying on the coffee table, he kept contemplating. A rough week and no excitement in his life, he put down the cork opener and headed upstairs to start getting ready. He's going to live a little! He was going to the art opening!

Around 8:12pm, the cab driver dropped Oliver off in front of the building where the gallery is located in TriBecA. He was so thrilled to be there. Walking in, he was passively greeted by a snooty lady with black hair chopped into a bob cut, wearing a tight maroon dress, small framed glasses, and an obnoxious black mood ring . He handed her the opened invite and started his walk-through. Admiring the art, as well as the people, Oli downed 3 glasses of the complimentary red wine while snacking on h'oderves. Around 8:50pm, sipping on the 5th glass, he looked up & spotted a painting he was almost sure wasn't there before. How on earth did I miss this intriguing and wondrous piece? he asked himself ...as he gazed intensely at this work of art. He tried to swallow but his throat seemed as though it was plugged with a gigantic candy jawbreaker. Even with a glass of wine in his hand, his tongue was dry. The painting was of a woman. A curvy sun kissed-skin woman looking over her shoulder from the back. She had very short blondish hair, and a luscious bare ass. Oli moved in closer so he could study every brush stroke of this stunning painting. Mesmerized by what he was staring at, he was following her from the tip of her head, down her spine, past her calves, to the bottom of her feet. The jazzy lounge music that played in the studio background to create ambiance was silenced to Oli's ears because there was a feeling about this artwork hanging on the wall. It's as if she were looking over her shoulder directly at him. Still holding his glass of wine, his empty left hand slowly and naturally started reaching up to touch the painting...the same hand that, just 4 hours prior, pulled the mistaken invitation out of the mailbox. Right as his index finger and middle finger was about to lightly touch her smooth neck, a familiar yet unwanted voice said "Excuse me." Oliver yanked his hand away and almost spilled his wine on the shellacked concrete floor. When he turned to look, it was the bitchy greeter of the art gallery. "Please don't touch the work;" she said. Oli stepped back and just nervously nodded his head. As the greeter turned away to talk to another guest, Oliver's eyes fixated themselves back to the painting. The gallery spotlights lit her up like a stage play. Still having that feeling as before, he eased down to the small creamy colored card attached to wall next to the painting. It was there that he saw the name of the piece as well as the price. It read "LJM, $3200." Oliver finally blinked, twice...then three more times... Then backed away. He gave her one last look before turning and walking away. He tried to walk fast because she was still looking over her shoulder at him. He bumped into a couple of thritysomethings discussing the polarities of a sculpture. "So very sorry." He mumbled.

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