Stunned visitors swear they heard the painting clear its throat right at snack time.
The museum urgently installs an espresso machine facing the world’s most famous smile.
Paris — All hands on deck in Room 711: yesterday at 5:32 p.m., a discreet throat-clearing from the frame reportedly froze the crowd. Witnesses claim the smile “tightened like milk froth” before suddenly relaxing, as if relieved by the scent of a nearby arabica. Some even swear they saw a tiny puff of steam escape the varnish, “an unfailing sign of a tight pull.”
The staff, skeptical at first, ended up placing an empty cup on a stool in front of the bulletproof glass, “purely for museum diplomacy.” Specialists consulted in a rush diagnosed an “acute cappuccinesque crisis,” common among masterpieces overexposed to selfies. “I clearly heard her whisper: ‘A ristretto, and make it foamy,’” asserts Marceline D., a guard of twenty-two years, trembling but categorical.
To avoid any further pictorial hunger pangs, an unprecedented protocol has been adopted: reverent silence at 5:31 p.m., olfactory infusion at 5:32 p.m., and rest for the eyes for exactly 93 seconds. Internal sources already mention creating a “frame bar” to soothe other jealous works: rumor has it the Venus de Milo is eyeing a hot chocolate, while a Flemish landscape is demanding a warm waffle. Visitors are kindly asked to bring a sugar cube, as a simple matter of aesthetic courtesy.
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