I turned my gaze elsewhere as the couple kissed in front of me.

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How embarrassing it would be if they caught me staring at them. But they did not notice me. They did not turn to look at me or even take a moment to consider that others might be around them.

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I wandered past them into the next hall, leaving them to have their moment in privacy. I wondered if they did this often, if it was commonplace in their relationship, or if their love was just budding anew. I paced around the hall, unable to get them out of my mind.

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I returned to the hall in which they were standing. There they were, arm in arm, still kissing. I look again. Is it love or just passion?

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I decide I need to take a closer look. I take a few unassuming steps towards them. They do not notice me. I am still too far. I approach a bit closer. They don't care. Finally, I walk right up to them, but they stand, frozen in time, unbothered with me. 

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I examine them. I admire them. I look at the description plate next to the frame. It reads: The Kiss by Francesco Hayez. 

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A masterpiece, I think to myself as I walk away, leaving the man and woman to their eternal embrace.