~ ~ ~



Jasmine returns to Washington that afternoon. She goes to the office and finds it closed. “But where is everyone?” she says to somebody passing in the corridor of the Senate building. She returns to the office the next day, Sunday, and it’s still closed; she reports Monday morning. Making no effort to hide her pique, she says to her immediate supervisor, “What was the rush, then?”

“How’s that?” He has long red hair and glasses and isn’t much older than she is.

“I’m trying to move my belongings. Half of me still is in New York.” She storms back to her desk and half an hour later the supervisor comes over. “He wants to see you,” indicating the door over his shoulder, down the carpeted hall. She walks down the hall and knocks at the door and, when she doesn’t get an answer, opens it anyway.


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