America's Children


Russian Eyes

At first Russia thought she was a child. With her wide brow, large eyes, and small body it was an understandable conclusion. But looking closer her body was too well formed for that of a mere girl. The confidence in her stride lacking the awkwardness of adolescence.

She was vaguely familiar in her blue dress suit, barely visible as she followed behind America. He was certain he'd seen her before. Perhaps amoung the anonymous political faces that sometimes appeared near America. When the fool made appearances publicly that is. Yes, that was it. He'd seen her in the ever changing group behind the annoying blond American. But how long had she been there?

Russia paused the program. He smiled to himself wryly such odd things America invested himself in discovering. The ability to pause live footage. The Russian reached over and turned on his hibernating laptop with a brush of his fingers. Scanning through his personal files he found an old file from nine years ago. Forcing himself to look through the footage he already knew he was disappointed to find her absen- Ah, there she was. Russia smiled pausing the footage.

Standing unobtrusively behind the defeated America was a solemn looking brunette in a similar dress suit. Black for the occasion. Russia looked up glancing at the face paused on the large screen of his hotel room's TV. In the current picture the girl looked the same, though her hair was slightly shorter. And her expression looked mildly annoyed instead a held back grief. A greif that made her look as if she would burst into tears or curse the sky any second.

Russia pursed his lips. Her large fawn brown eyes were very expressive. A cool deep brown that with a golden tone that suited her. The pools of brown seemed to reveal her entire soul. Rather like America's. For some reason this thought struck Russia and he leaned back to examine the grieving photo.

It was true that nine years, with a stretch, couldn't cause too much change in a person. But it still seemed odd. Something told Russia to look deeper. Looking up at his clock he noted he had five hours remaining until his meeting with America. Russia made his decision. Clicking on an older file he began to review his footage of America, his eyes keen for an unobtrusive slender brunette.