A Window to the Past

[Thalia]

There were some black and white pictures in the book, and she lingered on those as she scanned its contents. Her eyes popped back up when he spoke, though. Even after so short a time in his company, the formality didn’t surprise her. But the smile did. It was the poorest approximation of one she thought she’d ever seen; a bare hitch of the lips as clipped and controlled as the way he spoke, but it was offered after a pretty endearing fashion considering his stiffness. She laughed; not in a mean way, but neither in a way that hid the fact it was him she found amusing.

“Well, Michael Vellas, you’re very welcome.” For what? She had no idea, but a little detail like that didn’t perturb the confidence of her tone, as if she knew exactly what he was talking about. Still, strange man. Thalia bent to heave her satchel back on her shoulder, tucking the book under one arm while she squeezed her hand into her jeans pocket for her wallet. The cash for the book she folded in half and placed in her mouth as she worked out a card, which she then offered to Michael. It detailed the name of a gallery on Tverskaya Street housing a small collection of her paintings over the summer, as well as her name and website. That done, she stuffed the wallet back in her pocket and took the cash out of her mouth.

“If you like art at all. I take a lot of influence from myth.” She smiled, adjusted the strap of her bag, and slipped back passed, headed for the woman behind the till. “Nice to meet you too, Michael.”