The entire week he had been working very hard, results of frustration, papercuts, sore-hands, and bruises, but it was worth it. Countless hours of meetings and doing paperwork, of the few hours he had of sleep. On Saturday and Sunday of this week did he have the day off. And since he had finished his paperwork so soon, he got the rest of the month off.

He was proud of himself, knowing that because of his hardwork, his brother wouldn’t have to do so much paperwork, and they would be fine without it for a month or two. It was a good thing.

Today, he wasn’t sure what to do. Perhaps he would go out into the town and figure it out there. But for now, he had rolled out of his bed, which was really a couch since he was too tired to make his way upstairs last night, and he made his way to the kitchen.

The wood floor was a bit cold, but not as cold as he was certain the tile would be in the bathroom. The sunlight was filtering in through the windows and white curtains, a beautiful, pink-tinted blue sky hanging outside, and he could practically smell the wonders of his homeland through the glass.

Rolling down his sleeves over his hands, he reached for the fridge, and much to his disappointment, found that there was very little to eat or drink. It was mostly bare, and he decided then that he would make sure a shopping trip was in order when he went into the town.

The fridge contained little, as stated, with a half-empty bottle of orange juice, a cola, cream cheese, and a very sweet jelly that was usually used for desserts. So he took out the cream cheese, jelly, and orange juice, turning to the counter to set them down for the time being.

In the cupboard, it was bare as well, all except for some cooking ingredients for pastries, as well as bread and rasins. In the end, he pulled out the cooking ingredients, and began preparing himself a Danish, one of which was a recipe given him by Austria, as they were the Austrian version.

When he was almost finished making them, (he had made a dozen, wanting to use up the jelly and cream cheese as much as he could before they went bad) he heard the doorbell. Instinctively, he looked at the clock. 5:45 am.

He groaned, not really wanting any visitors at this hour---and usually he wouldn’t mind. But he was in a horrible state, wearing nothing but a white buttoned shirt and boxers, hair a mess, teeth unbrushed...

The doorbell was rung again.

He sighed, making his way to the door, peeking in through the door hole. He recognized the figure out on his doorstep, and hurriedly made his way upstairs, changing into sweatpants as he made his way back to to the door. He would be lying if he said he didn’t trip at one point.