Where To?

Chapter 11

Clair deposited what she owes me for the room she stayed in, in my bank account. Clair did her last round of reports and emails the day before her flight back. She went to the wine shop we passed by at Town Square but I don't know if she bought any Rebula. She was dressed nicely, as always, to the airport. She wanted fast food today, despite her diet.

It's a Wednesday morning in a Slovenian McDonald's. I treated Clair to a plate of pancakes with sunny side-ups and sausages, with a side of McMuffin Country and a cup of coffee. We talked quite casually, eating in silence.

"I'm still holding you to that thing you said." Clair spoke with a mouth full of pancake. She pointed her knife at me before proceeding back to slicing.

"What thing?" I replied, a little groggy this morning, honestly. I drank some coffee.

"The grand scheme, Engr. Kirschner" She gave her knife a whirl before eating another mouthful. "I'm excited about it."

"You can hold me to it." I chuckled through my Big Mac.

Mouthfuls of food.

"Did you buy any Rebula?" I asked her.

"I was going to, I mean, I was already holding the bottle. But I didn't want to risk it at customs, so I put it back on the shelves." She shrugged, her denim jacket wrinkling at the forearms.

"You didn't?" She shook her head no, "So, what'd you do after that?"

"I walked home. Slower."

"Slower?"

"Yeah, I guess I wanted to take the place in before I left, you know?"

"Did you perfume the Slovenian air while you were at it?" I raised an eyebrow at her and smiled.

"I would if I could." She chuckled lightly.

"You'd also get your photo taken every spot you deem blog-worthy."

"Pshh." Clair rolled her eyes, despite a smile cracking along her lips.

Sips of coffee.

"Send me pictures of your next Slovenia adventures, like Lake Bled."    

"Alright."

"Not just pictures of the place and stuff, put yourself in them." She said matter-of-factly, a stern look on her face telling me it was of great importance.

"What, am I supposed to take selfies?" I raised my hands in questioning manner.

"Hey, if it works, it works, Jill." She pointed her knife at me matter-of-factly.

"People will look at me, Clair." I said quietly.

"They'll look at you regardless of what you're doing. Let them use their eyes for their intended purpose." Her hair waved as she cocked her head to the side and nodding at the idea.

"Psh." I scoffed through my burger.

We ate in silence. Fifty percent because of how good McDonald's still is, and fifty percent because she was about to leave.

We walked back to the hotel. We took a cab to the airport transfer. Her flight was in about an hour more or less. I stayed with her before she boarded. At one point, she was looking at me, and I looked back to see what was up. She looked out the glass panels, and asked me

"Do you think it'll rain again, just like in Paris?"

And I simply blinked at her, and said