The Imitation Game ✓

THIRTY-FIVE | I DID SOMETHING BAD

Or maybe he had a secret, too.

Cora lightly shook her head. Don't be ridiculous. Simon had never been great at holding onto secrets unless they pertained to someone other than himself.

He glanced over at her as they stepped into the museum. "What?"

"What?"

"You were shaking your head just now."

"I was just thinking about something stupid, sorry." Then, before he could ask what said stupid thing was, she added, "My brain isn't working well enough to look at art yet—wanna grab a coffee in the café first?"

The last thing Cora needed was extra caffeine and she'd already had a cup of coffee this morning, but since her job kept her out so late at night it was a believable enough lie that she hadn't been awake for nearly as long yet today as she actually had. And now she was committed to the lie, so the two of them went to the café and ordered lattes, and she had no clue if either of them actually wanted to be drinking them.

She hated this feeling. She was supposed to know Simon as well as she knew herself and today she didn't. She needed to hurry up and spit the truth out so that they could go back to understanding each other. Even if they got into a fight about it, at least they wouldn't have to be stuck in this purgatory of wondering what was going through the other person's head.

The exhibition she wanted to see was about the Impressionists, so they headed there first after finishing the last frothy dregs of their coffees. Cora knew that a lot of people found Impressionist artists to be overrated, but she loved the way they weren't afraid to use color, the way they managed to convey so much emotion with such vague brushstrokes. She enjoyed looking at blurry figures in the backgrounds of paintings and imagining who they were or trying to envision what mood the artist was in while they were painting. Simon hated that she rarely read any of the placards about the artist lest she ruin her own imagination. Some of their greatest differences were brought out in museums—he loved to have as much information as possible; she loved to come up with the stories herself. They were quite the pair, the actress and the architect.

Simon knew by now that she'd plug her ears if he started talking about what he'd read about the artist, so instead, he'd talk to her about the composition, the formal aspects he appreciated. He had an eye for design, could tell her right away if the reason a painting was compelling was because the elements interacted with one another in an interesting way. Cora was embarrassingly blind to such things, but Simon never would have noticed the way a man in the distance was painted with a slight hunch to his shoulders, or that the woman in the forefront's eyes were melancholy even though she was smiling.

She liked stepping back and watching him watch the art. With his calm silence and his fair, unassuming, unobtrusive appearance, it almost felt like he would blend straight into the art itself if he stood there long enough. When he really loved a painting, he wouldn't start chattering on about it. He'd just take a few steps back and admire it in quietude, letting it do its thing without his opinions interjected.

It was an excellent quality to have, knowing when to speak and when to shut up.

Cora ended up being really glad that she caught the exhibit, as it ended up being her favorite thing she saw in the museum all day. It wasn't that she didn't love anything else, of course, but the more something was up to interpretation, the more appeal it usually had to her. Simon preferred sculptures to paintings, which she couldn't blame him for one bit. As someone who designed buildings for a living, it was obvious why he'd be drawn to three-dimensional objects.

The sky was already turning orange by the time they emerged, so they decided to grab sandwiches from the nearest to-go place they knew of and eat them in the park. Simon had suggested it just as a way for them to find dinner without it taking an hour or more, but Cora was relieved that now she could tell him about Rasmus in the semi-privacy of a picnic. They got their sandwiches—ham for her, turkey for him—and then meandered into the park, sitting on the first bench they found that wasn't directly adjacent to a crowd of people.