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Weekly Contest #292
The woman stood in front of the painting, her breath catching in her throat as she took in the brushstrokes, the light and shadow, the way the blue of the sky bled seamlessly into the sea. It was a small gallery on Rue des Beaux-Arts, tucked between a perfumery and a bookstore, a place she had wandered into by chance. And yet, standing here now, she felt as though she had been pulled in by some unseen force, as if fate had been waiting for her to turn this corner. She stared for a long time. Looking at the painting felt like being transforme...
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