Unpromised Home

crossing bridges

'in which an intermission is held'

The man pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. He leaned back into his chair, glaring at the scattered newspapers sitting on his desk. Each and every one of them headlining one portion or another of the growing conflict in Europe. 

In frustration, he pushes out from the table, knocking the rolling chair onto the floor as he stands. Stepping out from behind the table he walks over to the large window at the front end of his office, which were lined by large, draping curtains. The bright light from early morning fell onto the dark fabric of his suit, and further the wooden floors.

The view out the window was that of the office's front lawn. It was meticulously cared for by the hired landscaping company, who were the unfortunate, and unknowing, receptionists of the man's wrath. They continued their work, cutting the grass and pulling the weeds that had grown close to the concrete slab walkway.

"Sir?" The voice followed a knock on the door and a creak of its hinges. "Tennessee is here to see you."

"Tennessee?" He sighed, leaning against the window, "What does he want?"

"He didn't say, sir." The feminine voice sighed in response, shuffling papers, "Would you like me to send him here?" Silence filled the room for a few moments, as she continues shuffling through her papers. 

"No. I'll go find him." 

"Alright, sir." She slides her papers under her arm, quietly dismissing herself from the office. The sound of a shoe tapping on the wooden floor begins to sound as the man remains in silent contemplation.

With a huff, he pushes himself off the window before making his way towards the tall doors of his office. With a slam, he pushes the doors open before stalking off down the halls. The door's hinges squeak again as it bounces off the wall. 

His footfalls remain heavy on the floor as he walks. Irritation following him like a cloud, as he looks for his unexpected guest. More doors slam against walls, startling many of the workers in the building. Conversations turn into a quiet haze as the man storms by, in and out of rooms and down the halls. 

"You really hate me so much that you have to take it out on all of your employees first?"

"Can't say I blame him." The owner of the first voice sighs, as the angry man swivels on his heel, "Pulling him from his busy schedule to talk about... weather anomalies"

"It's not 'weather anomalies' Texas." 

"Then what do you want Tennessee?" The man crosses his arms, staring accusingly at the state. Tennessee sighs, before pushing the door open to an empty room. Mostly it was filled with chairs surrounding a table. As the man enters the room, Tennessee walks over to the table picking up a box that had been sitting dangerously close to the edge. 

The accusatory stare continues as Tennessee passes the box over to the man. He pulls open the top of the cardboard box, revealing several loose cards and a larger black case, holding something. 

"What is this?"

"Was hoping you would know. I showed it to a couple of the other states and they were as lost as I was."

"It's some sort of thin electronic brick." Texas offers, leaning against the edge of the table, "Pretty broken though. Had a bunch of IDs shoved in the front of it."

"I thought I told you to put those back!?" 

"You're the one who stormed out so suddenly." The bickering continues, as the man sets the box on the table, carefully pulling the 'electronic brick' out of the box. As he opens the cover of the phone cases small pieces of glass flake off onto the floor. The front of the item was shattered, missing several larger chunks of the glass cover and had dirt smeared within the cracks, large and small. 

Discarding it, he pulls one of the cards out of the box. Dusting off some of the collected dirt he flips the card over, revealing a small photo in the corner, a few descriptors of appearance and a name.

"Have you tried finding the owner of it?" The bickering stops as sudden as the question comes. 

"Was the first thing the officer that found it tried to do. He didn't hear much, except for one person. Some... restaurant owner or something." Tennessee crosses his arms, relaxing his shoulders as he does, "He was the only one who recognized the name. Said the girl was from Knoxville and was friends with 'the Evans', whoever they are." 

"Have you tried looking in Knoxville then?" The man presses, his irritation from earlier coming back to the surface. Tennessee and Texas simultaneously sigh at the growing tension in the room.

"Yes, we have, America, but it's a large city. And it not like we can take the words of the only person who recognized the name at face value." America takes another look at the card he was holding, "Who knows? There's no guarantee that she's even in Knoxville, or if anyone there will recognize the name either." 

"Let me know if you find something." America turns on his heel, heading for the door.

"Wait, you're just leaving?" Texas questions, shock on his tone, "No intrigue, whatsoever?"

"Use whatever you have to to find her." America pulls open the door, before turning back to face the two states, "And then bring her to me." Texas and Tennessee share a glance, as the door swings closed.

The returning walk was quieter than the outgoing one. No slamming doors, no cursing under the breath, but the employees still fell back onto whispers as their boss passed. His quiet was enough to throw them off from the regular flow of the building, even more so than his anger. 

As he enters his office, he closes the door he left open in his rage. He collects the newspapers on his desk, setting them in a neater stack on the side. Walking back over to the window he glances over the kept lawn, the workers who had been under his scrutiny only minutes earlier moved on to other jobs. He stares out into the sun for a few moments longer before returning to his desk again. 

He rights his chair, taking a seat in it. He remains in deep thought for a few moments longer, before pulling the ID out of the internal pocket in his suit's jacket. He reads it again, more thoroughly than he had the first time. He read the few details on the back before flipping it over, staring at the small fragmented image. He sighs. 

"Just who are you supposed to be... [Name] [Surname]..." He scoffs, tossing the card to the side, where it links off his desk, landing on the carpet underneath the desk. He grabs the newspapers he had stacked neatly on his desk, reading each of them with a scowl.