The Art of Knowing [Completed]

10. • masterpiece •

[to all who are unaware of the true piece of art you really are. you are beautifully and wonderfully made, a true masterpiece.]

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"Well, I'm impressed."

The older woman's words hung in the air as they pierced into Cassandra's mind. She'd just listened to the words she had doubted to ever hear from anyone who wasn't related to her or a good friend. Despite the continuous compliments she had received on her work, she couldn't help but wonder if sometimes the praise was a bit biased. And now there she stood, in front of a well-respected event coordinator for the gallery she couldn't believe she was actually inside of at the moment.

Cassandra allowed a relieved grin to tug on her ruby lips towards the woman. Her jet black hair and red rimmed glasses adorned the woman's hardened expression once Cassandra had walked in earlier. The young artist held her artwork nervously, heavily intimidated by the woman's ability to remain tightlipped. Despite the questionable first impression, the young artist now stood in awe and elation at the thought that her work was now worthy of display.

"Thank you so much," Cassandra breathed.

The woman's dark plum lips tugged upwards in amusement. She definitely knew a nervous artistic soul when she saw one. Her hand rested on Cassandra's shoulder reassuringly as she studied the maiden's intriguing features. The coordinator was rather pleased with Cassandra's appearance since she had clearly acknowledged the occasion to consist of much more elegant attire as opposed to sneakers and jeans, a horrid choice made by other artists she had come across.

"Relax. You did good, kid." Her words freed the pent up air inside of the young artist as she allowed a breath to escape her lips. Cassandra reciprocated the smile as she now took a hold of her various works in her hands once more.

"Alright, so how does this work?"

"Well, it's early right now so we usually take care of the display for you," she said, taking a hold of Cassandra's art in her hands. "I'll assign you the station you'll be on and give you sometime to get ready. I'll need you back by 6 in order to make sure you like how it's organized and stand where you'll give your discourse about the works."

"Wait, like a speech?" Cassandra mumbled.

"I guess you could say that," the woman smiled. "Just a little background on your inspiration or general information about them."

Cassandra's brows lifted as her emerald eyes widened a bit more than usual. Jason probably forgot to mention that small detail, a detail she would've liked to know beforehand. Swift panic gripped her heart once she gave her artwork to the coordinator, the thought of this dreadful speech she had to make now looming over her head. With a quick goodbye, Cassandra exited the museum in a haste. Her legs took her to the hotel she had been staying at as she walked through the sea of people engulfing her on the sidewalks of the restless city. Instead of having a peaceful morning, it proved to be the prime time for everyone to hurry over to their destinations, most of them involving their jobs.

Once she arrived at her room, she sat on the edge of the bed. It was vital to think of the impromptu speech she would soon have to give. Thoughts raced in her mind before she decided to call Jason, a fellow artist who she hoped could give her some words to describe her pieces.

"Hello?"

"Jason, I'm about to die." Cassandra could hear the subtle chuckles at the other end along with a silence that could suggest the furrowing of his brows.