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It was July sixth, the last day of the summit. When he woke up, America breathed a sigh of relief that he was sure most of the other countries shared. This particular summit was especially annoying. All he had wanted was to have a break on his birthday with his brother, was that too much to ask? Apparently. Not only that, but America had noticed how tired (and, with that, annoyed and irritable) the other Nations had been. But what had they really expected? America shook his head and got ready for the day.
Surprisingly, America wasn’t the last in the meeting room. He had grown accustomed to the looks he got when he burst in five minutes past the starting time - looks which varied from harsh glares to exasperated eye rolls. But no, for once, that title belonged to Germany of all Nations. A whole one minute before the designated starting time, Germany sped in, not quite walking but not quite jogging either. His face was hard and annoyed, more so that usual. When he crossed the threshold, he turned his gaze to America and glared.
“For fucks sake, the holiday was yesterday! Do your people know how to read a calendar?”