I sat looking at the Mona Lisa. She smiled at me in a away that made me shiver, her eyes were too much like his. They knew something I didn't. Such was my life, not too smart, not to pretty, just the love for art. I spoke French and English. English was my weak spot; it was a little too harsh for me. There was so much I didn't know. The mysteries that haunted me…no, no mysteries today, just me and Mona Lisa. My short, dull, brown hair fell over my face. I blinked twice. I allowed my gaze to sweep the area, no, I was safe here. Then he walked by. It was no coincidence that. He stopped and looked at the Mona Lisa; he was so close I could have touched him. His eyes were glued to hers; I saw the vague resemblance, in their stance, in their smiles. I stood and left.

I wandered down the roads of Paris pondering him. Who was he? Why was he following her? Was he following her? Why did he haunt her dreams? Why was he so familiar? Was could she never find a place that was away from him? Did he want to hurt her? Who was he?

I sat down at the nearest café and ordered a cup of coffee, black, I needed the energy. It had a lovely view of the river. I breathed in and out. He sat down with his bodyguard. They ordered a cup of earl grey and water. I stood to leave, first ticket out of Paris, I couldn't let him see me, as I left I looked back to see if he was watching me. He was, with a Mona Lisa smile on his face