What does he think he's doing? August wondered as he watched as Vincent slipped through the crowd and out the door. He frowned, his brows meeting at the center of his face as he looked about the gallery until he spotted his mother in a plain white dress at a corner. She seemed to notice he was staring and raised her head before looking straight at him with a smirk. August's frown deepened as he clenched his fingers to form fists by the side of his carefully ironed trousers.
"Could you please excuse me?" he asked the observer who had been rambling to him. The middle-aged woman let out a low laugh before permitting him to leave. He was soon walking through the crowd, panic running through him as he made his way to the entrance. He wondered what his mother had told Vincent to make him leave.
