I imagine that you're walking down a quiet, empty street,

Hands crunched inside your pockets, your thoughts a mile deep.

Maybe your chest is heavy and the world has made you wary,

Or the anger at injustice is becoming too much to carry.

I imagine that a voice calls out,

"Hey, you," it gently floats.

Not out of indifference or not knowing your chosen name,

Because I'm glad to see you, just you, from my front porch today.

"Come sit, you're safe with me," I say. And I imagine that you do.

I'm glad whenever you say yes, it's more for me than you.

I imagine there's no virus so I can hug you if you need,

To sit with you in silence or listen to you grieve.

I imagine that I help you in some small, hopeful way,

That you can stand up from my porch and continue with your day.

I wave to you as you begin to leave, if I spoke, my voice would quiver.

I imagine that you're safe and sound and home in time for dinner.

I imagine you'll be back to share a calming breath,

You're always safe with Mama Jean so please come back and rest.

I love you.

"It has been a long journey to get here!" She said. Cheers and shouts from the crowd responded: "Yeah, it has!" "Worth it!" "About damn time!"

She laughed, "About damn time. That's right, isn't it? It is about damn time. And this time would not have come without you all. With your votes, your campaigning, and your donations - I am only on this stage because you all put me here and I am so grateful to you."

This was met with more applause. She had been warned that there would be dozens of applause breaks, there always were on Inauguration day.

"Today has been a century in the making. Over one hundred years ago, women were granted the right to vote and we have been waiting, since that day, to see a leader of our country that looked like us, shared our worries, and identified with our gender." More cheers. The last few months had prepared her for this; 'let them cheer and celebrate but don't lose momentum. Keep building,' she thought to herself as she looked around the park.

"We have been waiting and today is that day. And, as you said," she pointed in the direction of the previous voice, "It is about damn time." And the crowd erupted again.

"Today," She continued as they quieted, "is the first day of our future. It is the first day that the United States has ever had a female leader. And it will not be the last day. Because as big as today is in our history, it is only the beginning. It is the beginning of education reform, police reform, healthcare reform. It is the beginning of a better country. One that former leaders have tried to keep from us but one that you demanded to see. A future with a healthy and educated populace. A future where prisons are not used as tools to lock up entire classes. A future that exemplifies what our founding fathers put down in the Bill of Rights even if they did not know the full meaning of the words at the time. Today is the start of a future wherein every American, every single one, regardless of skin color, gender, sexual identity, or birth place has the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness." The crowd screamed and applauded and the signs with her name waved energetically again. She gently fluttered her hands at them as they started to chant her name but the smile had already curled on her face. The signs came back down after a moment and the chanting died out.

She took a breath, "Thank you all for your support. Thank you for choosing to care about your fellow citizens. Because we are all humans and we deserve respect and a chance to find our happiness. Thank you for helping me get here and for your faith in me. I am indebted to you for that and it is not something I take lightly. Today is the start of a new future for our country but it is also, for me, the start of a new job and my new boss...is you. I work for you now and I hope you'll remind me of that if I ever forget. You gave me this job, and you can take it away. Again, I do not take this responsibility lightly. And, considering this election had the largest voter turnout in America's history, you all don't take it lightly either." She paused here, taking a moment to feel the weight of those words, the truth she felt in them. She looked out at her audience, their eyes trained on her, some of their masks with her name on them, all of them feeling hope.

"I see all of you here and I know this is beautiful new beginning for us, for the United States," she could feel the corners of her eyes burn with grateful tears, "And I am proud to be your new President. Thank you all and bless the United States of America!" She waved as the crowd cheered, slid her mask back over her ears, and turned back to the 'special' seats behind her. Her husband, now the First Gentleman of the United States, applauded and she could see the tears she had refused to shed now in his eyes, too. Her vice president shook her hand and said something but with the noise of the crowd and the mask covering his face, she could not hear it. Pity, it would be almost six months before she would see him in-person again.

The next few minutes were a blur of handshakes and secret service agents as she moved away from the podium. The next stop was the White House. Given the former inhabitant, she was not thrilled about her new home but, as anyone familiar with government housing can attest, it could definitely be worse.

As they pulled into the compound, she giggled to herself as they drove by the guest entrance she had been through as a child, 'No more guest entrance for me,' she thought.

Everyone had warned her that the first few days of presidency were a blur of paperwork and tours and secret meetings and file folders packed so thick they barely closed anymore. She thought she had prepared herself and had a good team to help her along the way but nothing could have prepared her for the fifth and final meeting of her first day. After being told the nuclear launch codes and ALL of the bases in which they were located, she felt it impossible for there to be many more surprises. Until the man with the pinstriped blue suit came into the oval office and asked for the room to be cleared of everyone except for him, his assistant, and the president.

As everyone left, she motioned to the brand-new chairs she had picked out of a catalogue a month ago, "Shall we sit?"

"That's alright, Madam President, this won't take long." He waved his hand and moved to the desk she was standing behind, his assistant in tow, never removing her eyes from the planner in her hands.

She nodded. "Very well. I have to admit, this is the meeting I've been most curious about, 'No title - 15min,'" Every other meeting today had a title, a point-of-contact, and at least 30 minutes had been reserved. It was an odd entry to say the least, especially on her first day of the presidency. "Very cryptic."

The man with the pinstripe suit seemed to smile a bit but his eyes did not move enough for her to be sure. He was making her nervous. "I agree, Madam President, but a meeting like this is not one we want on the record."

Trying to break the tension, she let out a small snort, "Then she is taking way too many notes," she said, pointing to his assistant. She looked out from under her glasses for the first time, squinted her eyes, and then resumed writing.

By this time, the man in the pinstripe suit has taken out his necessary paperwork, displayed the three pieces of paper on the desk, and took a few steps back to remove his mask. He stared blankly at her. So...she bent over the paperwork, pulled her mask off one ear, and began to read.

"Wait..." She said after reading the first paragraph.

"Yes, ma'am?" Pinstripe asked, innocently.

Words failed her for a moment. She had read and reread the same sentence four times. The words were obviously not computing properly - it had been a long day, her eyes were tired, her face tender from her mask - so she read the sentence out loud, "The day of assassination shall be February 3, 2021."

The words hung in the air for a moment.

"Yes, Ma'am," he said again. His assistant did not waiver from her notes.

"I need you to explain this to me. What is this meeting about?"

"You seem to understand perfectly, Madam President," he had been putting a weird emphasis on Madam as if it caused him pain to say. "Your assassination will take place on February 3rd, 2021."

She could feel anger rising in her. It might have been fear. "What the hell are you talking about? We don't schedule assassination attempts."

"Don’t tell me what we don't do!" He shouted, breaking his cool cover, his assistant actually jumping a bit. He continued, slightly shaky but much quieter, "You have no idea what we do and don't do. We don't have bitch presidents in the strongest country in the world. At least - we didn't used to. But after next month, I'll be able to say, we don't have women presidents...for long." He approached the desk, and pushed the papers toward her. "Two weeks of a woman will be plenty long already. Sign it. My fifteen minutes are almost up."