Derek and Nyssa are visiting the art museum. On the wall next to one corner of a gallery they come upon a photorealistic painting of the corner of the gallery.

Derek lingers in front of the painting longer than Nyssa expected. He stands there with his hands in his pockets, head tilted, as if the thing were whispering to him.

Nyssa steps beside him. “You look like you’re solving a puzzle.”

He gives a soft huff of a laugh. “Maybe I am. Or maybe the painting is solving me.”

She nudges him with her shoulder. “All right, philosopher. What’s going on in that head?”

He keeps his eyes on the image. “It’s the confidence of it. This corner shouldn’t be interesting. It’s the kind of space you never look at—just a leftover bit of architecture. But the artist treats it like it’s worthy of attention. Like it deserves a portrait.”