oh, mr president | H.S.

SIX: Her and Her Only

"All men profess honesty as long as they can. To believe all men honest would be folly. To believe none so is something worse." - John Quincy Adams

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S I X : Her and Her Only
H A R R Y

Those words.

They are mockery to the vessels of my ears. They fool me, as ignorant as they project, and as they echo repeatedly, my soul can no longer process the meaning of them. They've imprinted and engraved between the right hemisphere of my mind, and continues to force me to think about her. How bold she is for retaliating against me. Who does she think she is, ruining the steamed material of my collared shirt? The sensation of her actions remain stagnant in my memory. She is different, but that does not bestow the right upon her to bark at me like some animal. I am the president of the United States of America, and I will not stand for this ignorance.

The muscles of my digits curve to loop the wooden buttons inside of the material of my button up, eyes remaining firm on the structured man before me. My reflection was uncanny, and I could see the bewilderment of yesterday's events within the sea of my eyes. I cursed under my breath, padding the soles of my feet to the selection of ties given to me. There was an annoying shade of yellow, the brightest of colors, and a cool, magenta, rich in pigment. Normally, I would prefer the chilled colors, but Liam stood for the image of subtlety, and gentleness to the people without appearing excessive. My fingers disregarded Liam's conscious ringing in my eardrums, fingers to grip the deep violet when I was interrupted by the creaking of the door's opening.

"Sir, we discussed this. Yellow is always a better choice," Liam argued, snapping my full and complete attention on his frame charging for me. "Magenta makes you-"

"Look like a cold person. Yes, I know Liam. You do not have to remind me for the fifth time this week," I bitterly snatched the tie's material, looping through the process of tightening it around my neck. "We are going to a graduation, not a trip to the amusement park. Subtlety should not matter."

        "But, you are the president, and you want to appear gentle." I've had Liam's acquisition for nearly ten years. We rubbed elbows in Harvard Law School, and I've known him to be a bothersome fellow without a doubt. He has groomed me into becoming a suitable president ever since my father has urged me to become a perfect option for the Republican Party. A small slither of me believes - and is convinced by this - that he has paid off the senators to enforce my name to the top of the list. I have acknowledged that my family is a clever and sneaky, but there is not much that I can do about it. "Sir. We have to get on the plane in ten minutes." I assumed I had drifted off; Liam's fingers continuously snapped at my loss of focus. "Ophelia has written majority of the speech but she would like your opinion."

        My opinion? I scoffed at his choice of words, glancing one last time at the mirror's reflection of me. Once I was pleased greatly with my appearance, my fingers engrossed in my locks to sort the strands. "I do not think she wants my opinion," I asseverated sternly, channeling the flash flood of memories that I did not intend on remembering. Her blonde, short strands flopping every time she strutted away, and the feeling of her provoking attitude lingered still.

        "Even if she does not, do not insult her. I want to make myself clear this time, Mr. President. She is a valuable memory of your staff, and without her, you will suck as a president," Liam glimpsed at his wrist watch, the time unpleasant to him. "All right, let's head out. Ophelia is waiting in the plane."