Apart from a few families and a handful of suited up workers, the museum was empty. Steve was quick to learn that these were considered Private Hours, and you had to pay a pretty huge f*****g bill to get access. But was Steve complaining? Hell. No.
It was quiet, the way a museum should be, and there were such few people that everyone had the chance to properly examine the exhibits and actually get something personal from it all. It was like heaven on earth.
They had been there for over two hours and they were still moving around, going from painting to painting, sculpture to sculpture. They were together in a sense but not really; Becca jumping back and forth within eyesight of her dad, George and his ma walking hand in hand, Bucky in his own little world.
They would silently rotate
