The Last Debate

Fluorescent lights erupted in the auditorium, engulfing a pale glow in the ranks of empty seats. Tomorrow, the place will be filled with reporters, campaign staff, political addicts, and television audiences from around the country. But tonight, the president's leader, Marissa Langley, went alone on stage. She held her name behind the podium, holding her name in a bold letter. "Langley 2028" had an eagle stylized on the corner. It was impressive, and even the presidency looked impressive. But like the thorn crown, it felt difficult for them.

Marissa shouldn't be here. A year ago, she was the governor of a mediocre, popular little state. At best, their entry into the presidential race was amortized as symbolic. But then the leader came across a scandal, another candidate stumbled over health concerns, and somehow, the relentlessly disciplined Langley made up of moderates became the voice of reason for the party that had lost its way.

Now she was a discussion from the nomination.

"You should rest," one voice said from the wing. Her campaign manager, Jamie Voss, has the clamp industry and phone appearing under one arm, glued to the other. “The opposition was prepared with attack ads and invited questions. A full battery is required. "

Marissa nodded, but she didn't move. She asked quietly.

"All," she said. compromise. Performance anger. I talk half the time with sounds that don't mean anything. In the other half, I apologised for the truth. "

Jamie took the stage and tilted to the next podium. At least they try to write a better script. "

Marissa let out a bitter laugh. When I said no, he handed me the stains from the folder to him. I told him I wasn't interested. "

Jamie frowned. "It takes us a note."

"And that might be okay."

"Is that?" Jamie approached. "If you lose, who will you take your place? Who are these businesses? Someone who doesn't care about it as long as he wins."

Silence stretched between them.

Marissa looked down at her hands. They tremble a little. She wasn't exactly nervous. She was exhausted. Not physically, but deep in the soul. She wanted to believe that leadership could be honest, but this change did not require that they had to sell their ideals for a centimeter. But every day in this campaign, she taught her something else. "Maybe we've all just done," she whispered.

Jamie's expression. "Do you know why you're still leading the investigation? It's not just politics. That's why people believe you mean that. Even if it's not perfect. Even if you hesitate. That's rare. And then they are desperate. "

The door in the background of the auditorium opens with creak. "We're just going."

Jamie's phone went bustling once again as they drove down the hallway. She saw it and swears her breath.

"What is it now?" asked Marissa.

"Your opponent's team leaked a bit. Old movie material from you in university protests. They cried out about capitalism and police brutality.

Marissa moaned.

"They call them radical. They claim they hid the past. We need an answer - now.

Marissa stopped running. I don't pretend to be born completely refined. I was angry. I was idealistic. I'm not yet. I just learned to fight smartly. "

Jamie stared at me and calculated it. "Do you really want to own it?"

"I have to. If I start running from myself now, when I arrive at the White House, what am I?"

Jamie hesitated and then nodded. "In turn. We're leaving. I'll write a statement tonight."

I separated the path with

output. The night was cool and calm. Marissa looked up at the stars. It was just as they were shining on the house of everyone they wanted.

In the distance, she was already able to hear the news van rumble for discussion. Tomorrow the stage will be yours. The spotlight will be hot. The questions are sharp.

But for the first time in a few weeks, she was not afraid. She knew who she was. And it couldn't be replaced.