The service bell had been rung with the absence of the employee at the front to hand out tickets to the customers. The exhibit was quiet in the front, with all of the attendants behind large, bulking doors. The crisp air cut through like a knife as the people waiting to be allowed entrance inside the doors turned their heads sharply at the noise. A young man stood at the desk with his hands in his jean pockets as he waited.

A young woman popped up from behind the counter, slightly startling the teen as she smiled kindly at the young man. Her dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail and her bright eyes twinkled the slightest bit.

"Hello, welcome to the Julie Yoon exhibit. How can I help you?" she asked him.

The young man continued to stand there, unmoving, as he stared at her in awe. She was a masterpiece in his eyes. When he had come to the exhibit he had expected to find some really beautiful works of art, but he did not expect this kind of beauty.

He never expected the ivory palette that made up her skin, dark splatters of brown running up her arms and softly dotted her face. Her dark hair held into a perfect place while tied neatly and her clothes contrasted the soft elegance of her with an edge of darkness.

"Hello?" she called, waving her hand in his face, waking him from his daydream.

"Sorry," he muttered sheepishly. She nodded, her eyes telling him she was waiting for what she needed. "Can I get one ticket?" he asked, she nodded with a small smile, opening her drawer and handing it to him in exchange for his money.

He continued to stand there, the feeling of electricity passing through his skin, the tendons in his arm shaking as he slowly lowered his hands. Though his eyes never followed.

She leaned in close, her face inching closer and closer that his eyes grew marginally as he could see the artistry of her freckles. He made small pictures out of them in the seconds she approached him. "Take a picture, it'll last longer," she whispered to him, and he turned bright red before moving to enter the actual exhibit.

The young woman stayed behind the desk as blurred faces made blurred lines. The gallery was quite small but luckily with the appearance of new paintings every of often, people still came. Especially with the legend of Julie Yoon.

Two hours passed by and she saw the same young man yet again exit the gallery, staring at his phone with a frown on his pink lips. He walked over to her desk, which no one stood before and glanced at her for a moment.

"My phone died, could you make a call for me?" he asked, his lips as she nodded, picking up the phone naively.

"To who?"

"The Art Loss Register, 'cause you just stole my heart."

She looked at him with a dull look, setting the phone back down, "Cute," she replied before turning to return to her work.

He watched her carefully, waiting for her to turn back to him, but she never did. Once his footsteps were picked up and the door wheezed from the wind, she looked back to find a bright blue post-it note on her computer. Stolen from behind her desk.

She plucked the flimsy paper as she read the scribbling on it.

"Text me, beautiful. We can talk all about those fine pieces of art behind the desk."

Beneath was his numbers and before the paper was the young woman turning bright red. She set the note inside her desk before returning her attention to the annoying man slamming his hand down on the bell.