After the message we begin the trek back out into the cold, which isn't an exaggeration, it being nearly in the negative degrees. However our collective hunger outweighs the consequences of venturing into the cold. I think we walk to every other restaurant until deciding on a fairly close barbecue truck, the sweet smell of meat wafting through the open window. After waiting a good twenty minutes longer in the cold we make our way back to the hotel, taking the elevator up to your floor and proceeding to eat our food in your room. I sit on the chair closest to the window in an attempt to be close to you, but while your things sit on the chair adjacent to me, you sit on the bed furthest away. Have you always been this far away from me? Or are you just now realizing that you don't want to be around me?

I wouldn't blame you if that was the case.

There's not a lot of conversation as we eat our food, after all, barbecue isn't really the easiest food to eat. I think I finish first. Well, finished doesn't exactly describe it, since I still have nearly half my food left. What can I say? I'm a picky eater. While you two finish up eating I check the notifications on my phone. One of them is from our curly haired friend, she wants us to know that she's in the prayer room and invites us to join her. I relay the information to the both of you and we all agree that we should head over there, so that exactly what we do, once you both finish eating of course.

Once we arrive at the prayer room we all sit in the same row, and of course your friend sits between us, again. At this point I'm really not surprised. How could I be, really? It's just become common at this point. I think that if I ever actually got to sit next to you it'd only be because of some miracle. This distance you're putting between us only seems to grow every day. It's almost as if the more I try to get close to you the further you push me away.

The gap between us isn't really a gap at all, its a chasm.