She held my hand squeezing gently but not letting go for a little longer than people normally do after a handshake. I turned back toward the painting... searching for the artist’s name on the placard next to the name of the painting which was, “The Secret”. There it was, “K. Morays”. “You painted this?” I said still holding her hand in a leftover handshake. “That’s it, isn’t it? They just had sex in the restroom,” looking into her eyes as she began to smile. She stood up then, taking me by the. "There's nothing in here," I said aloud. Surprisingly, I got no response. I turned around to see my family as still as statues. Even my normally hyperactive younger sister was frozen in place. I blinked. "Hello-oh-oh?"I called cautiously, trying to get a reply. I didn't get one. I stood up and walked towards my motionless father, who had his arms extended as if he was about to take a picture with the camera he was holding. I yelped suddenly as I stubbed my toe on something hard. I looked down. More

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