"I love you" Sounds like a Lie

An Easy Mistake

        I wasn't allowed to go to the world meetings. I'd get the notes on what was discussed a few days later in the mail. I had no idea who was writing the notes. At times they would be neat and precise, other times they would have grease prints, unidentified spills, or sketches on them. 

        I'd look over them and try to get a feel of the problems and possible solutions. It was confusing to know what was going on. I wished I could go to the meetings.

        I was all grown up now. I lived by myself, and Papa never came around to see me anymore. It was only about a month until I was able to go to the meetings. The restraining order expired then.

        I was worried to go. What if no one noticed me? What if someone sat on me? That's happened more times that I'd expected.

        I pondered this as I sat outside the meeting room door.  Time passes faster than you think when your anticipating something. I leaned against a wall, watching countries file in, one after another. No one noticed me.

        I waited until everyone had gone in and sat down. This way I wouldn't get sat on. There was one empty chair left. I started toward the lone chair, hoping to quietly slip in, unnoticed. Unfortunately, it didn't go that way.

        Someone chose that moment to walk behind me, and tripped on my foot. The blonde tumbled to the ground with a loud thump. All eyes were on us, or rather just him. I quickly scurried over to that seat and hung my head.

"Are you alright, America?" that voice sounded all too familiar.

The blonde got up and fixed his glasses," Yeah dude, just tripped on something."

"An invisible something?" questioned a short man with his long hair in a ponytail. 

        Oh great, now I was an invisible force. The blonde made an effort to speak but was immediately interrupted by man with a ridiculous accent. 

"Oh come on Amérique! Just admit that you're clumsy and sit back down!"

        Okay, that was just rude. How dare they say that about him. It didn't seem very fair to stereotype like that. I hadn't really gotten mad over something so minor before.

        Then I realized why. That person that I had tripped was Alfred. He didn't notice me? But I'm his brother. The rest of the meeting was kind of a blur. I wasn't able to concentrate because I kept looking over at the three familiar faces in the room. The man with the outrageous accent was Papa, and he hadn't changed all that much in since the last time I saw him. Alfred was more loud and absurd than ever. 

        Finally, there was the British gentleman that the countries on either side didn't sit very close to. I imagined he was still as stiff and unapproachable as ever. Something about his appearance made me want to think otherwise. His naturally bushy brows hung close to his emerald eyes, grumpily darting back and forth between people. A thin frown curved to shape the rest of his face.

        My eyes were directed toward him, unable to look away. This man was not the man who had run away after that tragic incident five years ago. He was just so... Short. Maybe that was just because I was younger then, or because I was the tallest person in the room (well, second to the man with the scarf actually).

        Other than being short, his mannerisms had changed as well. He was kinder as I had noticed from Alfred tripping. Although his words still had remnants of venom, they were sweeter, calmer. Where had this man been five years ago?

        I ran a finger along the scar on my arm. They had to break my arm again so it would grow back right. Papa told me the bone came through my skin when they did this. That's where the scar came from.