The night air outside the gallery was cool and clean; Innsbruck did not sleep so much as it rested; lights dimmed, streets quieted, but life remained present, orderly, contained.
The last patrons drifted out in pairs, laughter muted out of courtesy rather than exhaustion. Bruno and Heidi descended the gallery steps without hurry.
No attendants rushed ahead, nor were there any aides waiting on them with folders or schedules. The city belonged to itself tonight, and they walked through it as its guests rather than its masters.
They moved along a broad avenue framed by stately facades, their windows glowing softly. The buildings were tall, but not oppressive.
Ornate, but not ostentatious. Each one stood as if it expected to be there long after the present moment had passed and intended to be worthy of that endurance.
Heidi slipped her arm through Bruno's, resting her head lightly against his shoulder as they walked.
"I'm glad you didn't remove it," she said at last.
