Emma's hard breathing could be heard as she took sharp intake of breaths, in and out, intermittently.
What had she just seen? She queried her mind, her eyes blinking continually as if in sheer disbelief of what she had seen.
She ambulated towards the painting again, hoping to see the glow which had scared the life out of her. But when she had gotten to the painting, caressing it even again, hoping for the glow that had sharply burst forth out the painting few minutes earlier before dying out as fast as it had come, she had been disappointed; the glow wasn't forthcoming, and the picture had returned to its former state.
Had she been imagining it? She thought to herself, then shaking her head voraciously the next second, as she refuted the thought. She hadn't been dreaming or imagining; she had been wide awake and had seen the painting shone for some seconds.
