Until I see you again

Table for the Broken

     I sat at the table across from Dillan. It was only 7:30am once again. We'd come here every day for the past week we've stayed. But this time, things were different. He didn't have his phone. No, it wasn't in any of his pockets. He didn't have pockets. He wore a loose under shirt, one a prince would've worn during a sword fight. There wasn't that awkward silence, we were talking when we weren't swallowing.
      "Ten pounds?" I asked in disbelief, shock in my eyes as he chuckled, a real chuckle. I'd never seen him laugh in happiness before. It seemed his confession last night lifted a large amount of weight from his chest. He even had a little skip in his walk when we walked to the elevator to come down.
     "I know it seems too heavy, but the catfish was huge!" He exclaimed, throwing his arms out to exaggerate the 'huge' part. I couldn't help but laugh a little, looking down as people scorned over at him for his volume. He didn't care. I knew he didn't. I didn't either. And I loved that. "Perhaps when we go back to Jamaica, I'll take you fishing."
   I stared at him, my faint smile fading as I looked down. I didn't want that. I wouldn't be with Dillan once I found him. I knew he knew the reason I looked down, I felt it in the air around us. It was eerie, uncomfortable. I heard him clear his throat, but I kept my gaze down on my empty plate.
    "I'll take you back to your room." He offered softly. I quickly shook my head as I heard him stand and stood up myself, putting my hand up to gesture for him to stay. I glanced at him, and he nodded. I wasn't in love with him. I was generous to him. Why is generosity a symbol for flirtation these days?
    I picked up the skirt of my flowing white gown, it was the most uncomfortable dress I've ever worn. I walked out and walked to the elevators, pressing my floor and then rode up to my room, turning the tv on as I took off my dress. Ah, the feeling of relief from the feeling of just underwear and a bra on as I laid in bed.
    I switched channel after channel, most in either French or Russian, until I landed on the news, news from England. I watched the weather. Snow. Snow. Below freezing. Snow. Bombs. Wait-bombs?
     "The site of which the bombings of just under a year ago has been bombed once again. Security and government are investigating with police." The newswoman said, that fake sadness in her eyes. But the sadness in my eyes was real. "After months of residents rebuilding families and homes, the terrorists responsible for the first attacks have returned to burn the rest of the rubble. President William of the United States and President Blaqüi of Russia have met together discussing these events and how we will continue to live life. Rebecca Pole, London."
    I stared at the photos that passed by the screen while she spoke, fire was everywhere. There were woman holding dead children, children holding dead animals, animals holding severed limbs. It was gruesome. I reconsidered the mission I was about the go on for a moment then nodded. He's not dead. He's there, surviving at a makeshift hospital.
Wherever he was, I was about to find out.