The wedding was beautifully unique just like Emily and Gunther. The combination of blue and black was never something that crossed my mind as wedding colours but Emily made it work and her mid-length hair with sapphire blue curls fit her perfectly. Gunther also looked the part. His blue suspenders were as bright as his smile when Emily walked down the aisle. 

Most of the guests wore either blue or black attire. And, the tiny midnight black garment that I was forced to wear complimented beautifully the cobalt blue suits the best men were wearing.

Daniel kept his distance. We exchanged a few pleasantries when we were asked to dance by the master of ceremonies and I caught him looking at me when I was the recipient of the old bouquet throw. But, that was all. 

It is really over. The chapter is closed. 

I pack my bag slowly. I'm only leaving tomorrow but somehow I can't wait to run away. George is out with Marie once again although she keeps insisting that they are only going out as friends and that he is an Idioten. No arguments there. 

Since the wedding, I've limited myself to sulk around the house. I don't even know why I decided to stay two days after the wedding. Should have booked the damn ticket for the very next day. I lay on top of my clothes and sigh loudly. My phone buzzes and I get up ever so slightly enough to peek who is calling. George name flashes and I push the phone back to the end table. He is just going to ask me to meet them somewhere outside. The last thing I want right now is to see other human beings. 

I go back to my fun activity of laying down very still while glaring at the ceiling, but the incessant buzzing of the phone drives me mad. 

"What?" I scream into the receiver. 

George infuriating laughter is the first greeting. "Really? That bad, huh?"

I groan and lay back on the clothes. They are getting wrinkled with every shuffle I make with my body but I don't care. "What do you want?"

"Are you going to come out and say goodbye to your friends?"

He means Marie. I've said my goodbyes to Emily and Gunther before they left on their honeymoon. Emily held me so tightly it almost cut my air supply. Jonas is a nice guy but not really a friend. Not my close friend, at least. The only other person is Marie. That's who he is referring to. The 'warden' that has captured my annoying friend's heart. 

"Why don't you guys come over? I can cook some dinner..." 

"No way! Your cooking sucks, and you need to go out of the house. Come and meet us. We are on our way to this schnitzel place in Dusseldorf."

"I don't think I want to go all the way to Dusseldorf for schnitzel..."

"Just get your lazy ass out of the house! We will wait for you in the place. I'll text you the address and the three of us can have a nice meal."

I contemplate his words. Not saying goodbye to Marie would be rude and will hurt her feelings. 

"Fine..." I release it as if I've been asked to walk the plank on a ship. 

"Great. I'll text you the address and we will meet there."

One hour later and I look around for this place using Google maps as my guide because my sense of direction is a big fat zero. 

My phone rings. I look at it and see a text from George. 

'We're running late. Meet you at the restaurant in half an hour.'

I expel a string of curse words that make an elderly gentleman chuckle. I  give him an apologetic look. I ponder for a moment if I should just wait in front of the restaurant. Yes, because that doesn't make you look like a loser at all, Natalie!

I start walking around the block. There must be a shop or something I can browse to pass the time. I walk through the paved streets slowly looking for anything remotely interesting to kill the time. After browsing through a couple of shops that looked as interesting as watching a washing machine in full cycle, I've stop at an art gallery. I recall George mentioning something about an art gallery and I do like 'art shit' as he would put it. 

The gallery is as typical as they come. An open space with white walls that allow the paintings and sculptures to come to life. I walk slowly taking in each piece of art. I retrieve my phone and Google some artists names and send screenshots to mom who might want to check them out for her own gallery. I've always been her scout when it came to talent. 

Most of the paintings are good but not overwhelming to me. Apart from one large canvas that has the features of a young man. The strokes are remarkable. I linger my eyes on the painting and look for the name of the artist. The initials on the small white print on the right hand side display a D.S. Can it be?

I stare at the painting for a bit longer. It looks like his work. But, better. Much better if that is even possible. And then it's when my head decides to turn a little to the left and my eye catches sight of the most unexpected. Me in a painting. And, not just one painting but several paintings lining the white walls. All of me. 

I stand shook to my core. Each image is vivid and powerful in its own way. I turn around overwhelmed trying to shield my eyes from images I cannot unsee. Not because they are ugly but because they are the very opposite. Remarkable uncanny images of me. He has captured my essence in each portrait. 

And in that moment of cowardice with my back turned to the paintings that line up against the white wall I see it in front of me. At the centre of the gallery. The master showpiece. My painting. Not the ordinary paintings that I've uncovered. I'm talking about my birthday present that I so carelessly left behind and have longed to retrieve ever since. 

I take a step forward and approach the canvas. I look for the price tag but cannot find one. This painting belongs to me. I may have overlooked it when leaving with a broken heart, but it's still mine nonetheless. 

I inspects my surroundings to find who is working the floor but alas I can't seem to find anyone. As my mother would put it, 'Finding a curator in an art gallery is like finding Nemo.' I chuckle and think of mom and what she would say about this display. 

I take my phone and click a few pictures of my paintings and send them to her. I want not only her artistic opinion but mostly her motherly view of the significance of this. 

"Entschuldigung..." A shrill voice from behind me announces herself as the person I've intended to find. (Excuse me)

I turn around and I am met with a frown. I know I just committed the ultimate sin. Taking photos at an art gallery. 

"Ich werde Sie bitten müssen, die Fotos zu löschen." She looks at my phone. (I'll need to ask you to delete the photos)

"Ich möchte dieses Gemälde kaufen," I respond in turn while glancing at the ticks in What's App.(I want to buy this painting) 

 I'm waiting for mom to open the messages. After that I'll do whatever she likes. 

The woman scoffs and looks at me as if I just said the most absurd thing in the world. Also, I'm certain the accent doesn't help. 

"Ich bezweifle, dass es in Ihrer Preisklasse liegt. Außerdem ist dieses besondere Stück nicht zu verkaufen." (I doubt it is in your price range. Besides, this particular piece is not for sale.)

I frown. Some words I'm not familiar with. 

She huffs. "Not for sale." she repeats in English. "Please delete the photos."

"Why is it not for sale? Because you think I can't afford it? Try me. How much does it cost?"

I'm still ignoring her request. I couldn't care less about it in fact. All I care about is that my painting is here in this gallery. In fact, all I really care about is to know why my face is plastered everywhere. 

"This piece is not for sale at the artist's request." 

I linger my eyes on the painting. He doesn't want to sell it? Oh, my head hurts. 

She crosses her arms. "Delete the photos or I will call security."

I scoff. "Have you even noticed that my face is plastered all over these paintings?" I walk to one of the paintings. "Me!" I trot to another. "Me!" and then another. "ME!" I scream raising eyes from everyone inside. "So, you must be joking by asking me, the person that is in all of these paintings, to delete photos of her OWN PAINTINGS!" I raise my voice again. Now, I can hear whispers tagging along the intense stares. 

"Ich rufe die Polizei, " she says and turns her heels running. (I'm going to call the police)

My phone starts ringing. I look and see George's name. 

"What?" I scream once again. 

"Where are you? We're outside the restaurant." He ignores my rant. I guess he must be getting used to them.

"I'm afraid I'm about to be detained by the police so won't be able to make it."

George laughs and then stops. "Are you serious?"

"Dead serious. I'm not leaving without my painting..."

"Your painting? Natalie, where are you?"

The woman is now on the phone and I have a large security office casually walking towards me. 

"At a stupid art gallery." I look at my painting. The painting I never wanted to have parted from but in a moment of irrational stupidity I have. "You'll need to bail me out."

"Bail you... dude what are you talking about?" 

I slam the phone shut. I'm not deleting any photos and I'm taking what is mine. He doesn't want to sell it because it's not his to sell. I look at the painting and grab it from the wall. The security guard opens his eyes at my audacity and lunges himself at me. I try to run but I'm not as quick as he is and he tackles me to the ground before I can run very far away. 

The painting slides across the polished floor and stops at a pair of black shoes. 

"Natalie?"

I look up and see Daniel staring at me quizzically. 

Fucking fantastish!