The chic was hurried along down the hall of Dutch tapestries and hadn’t the time to consider the hand of the medieval wench who had worked it. She read for a year how such works were created and was so happy to finally be there. The idiot boy who accompanied her was rushing to see all that they could and snapped many irregular illegal pictures.
The contraband was kept slipped in his sleeve and tethered to his wrist. He could palm it and open the digital shutter without notice of docents, cops or priests. He was a flash frame terrorist who would, in the end, still buy the sleek colored museum gift shop book and thumb through it years later as he sat on his porcelain throne. A jackass in a museum with a camera and his wife.