The answerphone beeped. Olivia listened to the message and glanced at the intruder; it stood with its arms folded shaking its head. “Don’t trust him. His tone reveals he’s a liar.”
Olivia ignored the comment as she grappled to sit upright. “You know what? I don’t get this… What are you doing here? What do you want from me? If it’s money…”
“Why does it always have to be about money? Do I look as though I have the slightest interest in shiny pieces of metal?”
What did that mean? “Then…?”
“As I said… I’m waiting.” The person in black paused and glanced out of the window and back to the hourglass in front of it.
“Are you some kind of weird stalker of ex-child prodigies?” asked Olivia.
“God, no!” The intruder leant against the wall and sighed. “Do you understand the concept of timing?”
“In relation to what?” asked Olivia glancing at the door.
“Don’t bother thinking about escape. There isn’t time… And the timing is in relation to the universe,” it responded.
What did it mean? How could she get out? She squinted and touched the back of her head. It was still painful. Olivia frowned; the intruder was real, wasn’t it?
The art agent clenched his fists and gritted his teeth. “She’s done it again! How many times do I have to endure this behaviour?”
Richard, the agent, attacked his mobile phone and pressed re-dial.
“She’d better be on her way! Or… or I’ll…” he muttered. Unconsciously he stamped on the black and white patterned marble floor of the gallery. The phone rang.
“This is Olivia, please leave a message,” said the answering machine clicking on.
“Where the bloody hell are you? Get your pathetic arse over here now! I will not take this shit anymore! You will get here and put this exhibition together or we both lose everything!” he yelled. When he was finished, he snapped the phone shut. Smack! It collided with the floor. The agent loosened his collar; beads of sweat caressed his forehead and dribbled down his nose. Clasping his chest, he groaned and swayed.