Chapter One – A Fashion Show
"Wearing a totally fabulous pink Gentle Fawn mini-skirt, a pink tube top whose label I couldn't read, and black leather knee-high boots, ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce to you, Feliks Łukasiewicz!"
The closet doors flew open, and Feliks strutted out, pausing occasionally to pose for invisible cameras. When he reached the end of his "runway", he smiled at his friend and said, "Do you like it, Liet?"
Toris shook his head and sighed, but was smiling at the Polish man. "Feliks, you know that I don't know anything about fashion, I don't know how I let you talk me into this…"
"But do you like it?" he asked, looking into his eyes.
"Well, yeah, it looks nice on you…" he trailed off, blushing, but Feliks didn't seem to notice. He was already on his way to the closet again, smiling. He was almost at the large closet's doors, when there was a knock on his front door. "Wait right here, Liet, I'll be right back!" He skipped out of the room and down the stairs.
When he got to the door, he opened it to see who it was. There stood a tall man wearing a light pink scarf. "Privyet, Poland. I've come to take Lithuania home," said the man with a smile.
"Uh, Liet's like, not even here. Do widzenia." He started to close the door, but the Russian caught it and forced it open.
"I know he is here, da." He took a menacing step towards Feliks, still smiling that cold smile. "And I want to take him home now."
"Nie! Why don't you just like leave him alone!" he asked defensively.
He said nothing. His smile grew wider, but there was no life in his eyes as he swung his faucet pipe at the young man.
Lithuania was trying to hear what was going on downstairs. The only thing he heard was Poland shouting something, and then two thuds. After a few moments, he heard a car door shut and the car start. As he looked out the window, he saw a very familiar car pull out of the driveway and drive away. He ran as fast as he could, jumping down the stairs. When he got to the still-open front door, there was nothing there, except for a small puddle of blood, and an envelope with his name on it… In Russian. He quickly picked it up and tore it open, reading the short message from Russia.
"Уважаемые Литвы,
Если вы всегда хотите видеть Польшу снова, а затем вернуться домой, пожалуйста.
Любовь, России. "
"Dear Lithuania,
If you ever want to see Poland again, then return home, please.
Love, Russia."
