Bright sunlight pierced his eyes as he stepped into the fine painting and heard a loud baritone, “Attention!”
He looked around to find out the place of origin of the deep voice. But there was nobody around nearby, except for a guard standing alert with a rifle facing upwards, held in his palms; his face impassive, devoid of any emotions and his dark eyes sparkling.
There were people at a distance but he was sure nobody could see him and the still life beside him.
“What are you looking at?” spoke someone from behind.
He returned back to the reality.
*Written in response of the Friday Fictioneers Writing Prompt.