The Visitor

"Vector," I said, my eyes widening. "That is... five hundred..."

He didn't bother looking at me and slowly dropped the tab, his eyes focused on the painting. I swallowed hard, my fiat's clenching, my eyes seeking the painting once more, my chest lightly heaving. Soon, the auction came to an end, and I stood by as people spoke to Vector, and he went around speaking minimally with each one that came, like he was saving words for the next person.

I sat next to him in the car, my eyes fixed on the passing cars and the gradually setting sun. The view outside was beautiful, and I had long forgotten how perfect this city could be. How beautiful the view was at night.

Vector didn't say a word to me, and we sat in complete silence. I couldn't tell what he was thinking, however. Why he bought the painting for such an astronomical amount, and why he seemed rather pissed.

I cleared my throat and leaned back, then slowly turned to him. I had expected him to be focused on his tab, or something else