My coffee has long lost its warmth but I never planned on finishing it. It's my third refill and I didn't really want it but the waitress offered and I didn't say no. It's nearly 3:00. He said Sunday, Sunday afternoon. I mean, the afternoon is a little vague, which is why I texted Gerard for clarification. He has yet to respond. He also has yet to show up.

I go to our conversations. It would be too much to send another message. I texted him this morning asking when he wanted to meet up. And then again at 12:45 saying I got here. And then an hour ago. He had to have at least seen them by now. The first one I sent about 7 hours ago. Even if he had meetings, he easily could just check his phone during one break point.

I try calling him one last time, clicking on his contact and waiting. It rings several times until it eventually ends. "I'm sorry, but the person you called has disabled the voicemail box. Goodbye." The automatic voice ends and hangs up the call. Why doesn't he take voicemails? I mean, not that I would have left anything but still. It's one thing if he didn't set it up but it says it's been disabled like he went out of his way to get rid of it. Granted, I ask myself this every time I call him and he doesn't pick up.

I set my phone down on the table, unsure of what to do. Why didn't he come? He said he wanted to see me one last time before I left. By the looks of it, he's staying in Austria for some while. Well, also by the looks of it, he's not doing too well. He looked really sick on Thursday like something was wrong. I can't possibly imagine what kind of work stresses he has. Maybe auditors but what could have possibly happened to do that to him? He's an...I don't remember. I know he told me but I can't recall. It's like an accountant but not really. Financial advisory? Yeah, something like that and a translator. How is that stressful though? I mean, I'm not in his shoes but his condition was bad.

Clearly, I don't seem to understand him very well. He's this 26-year-old with a fancy job where he doesn't have time for me. My concerns are my study abroad ending and needing to graduate. His are clearly much bigger than that. We live very different lives. Maybe too different. If I'm that easy to forget, I don't need to bother him anymore.

The waitress comes by and I take out a few dollars for a tip. She glances at me slightly confused when I hand it to her. I keep forgetting Europeans don't need to tip but it's fine.

I head out, shoving my hands into my pocket as I walk back to the apartment. It's much colder today than usual. Overcast and a strong wind. I should have worn a thicker jacket but too late now.

The weather barely distracts me from the thoughts in my head. What did I think was going to happen? I mean, I'm just this college student and he's...this is Gerard-he's...he's everything I could have wanted. I mean, that sounds so naive and sad but man, I fell for him hard. What is it about him that makes him different? I mean, if he saved my life, that would make sense but I just had some impulse to save him, a stranger at the time. But that was one hell of a way to meet him. In the hospital, he pretended to be my boyfriend. I mean, who just does that? Gerard does. He's so suave and he's also really attractive. I never thought I'd be into an older guy, I always figured I'd meet someone in college who was my year. If only I knew back then.

But it still hurts he forgot about me. I get that he has meetings and a lot of stress, but he could have at least called. Or texted, just one text. Why is that so hard for him to do?

Maybe this is his hint of telling me he doesn't care. He did tell me he didn't want to see me anymore and then suddenly we run into each other. But if he didn't want to see me, he wouldn't have suggested we meet up. Why would he do that?

Maybe I'm really just overreacting. He's clearly really stressed so a lot must be happening at work. Something probably came up and he just couldn't get out of it and didn't have the ability. He does have a personal phone and a work phone. Maybe he can't get to his personal phone. And I doubt he has my number on his work phone. Maybe he'll get back to me later. Or maybe I'm just making up more lies to ease my nerves. I'll find out in time. But there isn't much time left. I leave in five days.

I make it make to the apartment, trudging past the boxes in the front. "Hey, Frank," Jenna calls from the kitchen. It sounds like she's packing stuff up. "How was it?" I don't really want to talk about it. I go to my room and slump down on my bed. There are more boxes piled around my room, some yet to be filled. But we're getting rid of most of the furniture. It's too hard and expensive to deliver it back to America. And Jenna was able to get most of this stuff at secondhand stores and garage sales. But we've been able to sell a lot of the stuff, some I think for more than she got it for originally.

Jenna knocks on my door. "Frank?"

"Hmm?" I mutter, my face buried in my mattress.

She walks over, sitting down next to me on the bed. "You're upset."

I roll over on my side, looking up at her. "He didn't show up," I say. She opens her mouth but I cut her off. "I don't want to talk about it," I quickly add. "Tell me about your afternoon."

She tucks a strand of fallen hair behind her ear. "Um, I've just been packing. Um, Lynn stopped by for a bit, we were talking, made some tea." She rocks back and forth slightly. "Apparently there was a shooting."

I sit up off the bed. "What? Here?"

She shakes her head. "Nein, it was in Vienna, which is still weird. They found a pregnant woman shot in the stomach. They rushed her to the hospital."

"Oh my god," I mutter. "That's...sickening. Is she still alive?"

Jenna nods her head. "Not sure. Lynn was telling me she heard about it this morning on the news. And there was an unregistered vehicle at the scene, she said it was crashed into to."

"When was this?"

"Last night," she says. "It's really scary this is happening. I know it was a long time ago but the hotel bombing was really scary too."

"Yeah," I say, "that kind of stuff doesn't happen in Austria."

Jenna nods her head. "Yeah, that's the most violence here I've seen my whole life," she says. "But I'll be leaving soon so if it continues, it'll be okay."

I crack a low, maniacal laugh. "Oh, Jen, you're moving to America," I sigh. She looks at me worried but I just keep chuckling.