#agent 46

How should we shape the Democratic Party? If we are honest with ourselves, Hillary Clinton when she was young was a lot like Bernie- fierce, unapologetic fighting for what she believes in. After 25+ years of being beaten by Republicans and anti feminist haters, her fighting spirit has dimmed a bit. She has made mistakes- but after what these ignorant people who essentially brought Agent 46 out front, would you could blame her? I wouldn’t be so willing to be open with you if you critiqued me for my personal choices for so many years…

Anyway, how does the Democratic Party start to rebuild and what do we do to make it happen?

Teenagers were hell, sometimes, but David wouldn’t give up teaching them for the world. They could be noisy, nosy, disrespectful, and troublesome, but when push came to shove, they weren’t all bad. He left the school Friday afternoon with a briefcase full of handmade and storebought Valentines alike, and some best wishes for a ‘romantic Valentine’s day’ with Miriam. 

Sometimes, it seemed like the entire Ort-Meyer program had all been some nasty nightmare he’d made up during a bad night at the bar while stumbling home, or during a terrible drug trip during a misbegotten youth. But then in the mornings, he caught a reflection of the barcode on the back of his head, and it became all too clear to him it wasn’t a dream. Much as he wished it was. And knowing that always kept him on his toes, always kept him worrying. 

Worrying for the day he had to leave his family for their own good. Worrying for the day some agency would have their cars in his driveway and appear with their badges and guns and ask for his ‘service’ again, and he wasn’t sure his heart could handle if it ever happened. 

And then he arrived home and there it was. A dark car parked just up the road from his house. Close, but not close enough that it could clearly enough be identified as being there for his. But he recognized the style-it was the sort of car an agent would drive, wasn’t it? And oh god, he caught a glimpse of a broad-shouldered bald man in the driver’s seat. This was it, wasn’t it...?

David pulled into his driveway, shifted into park, and quickly called Miriam. Out shopping with the kids for Valentine’s still, fortunately. “Just don’t....well, could you keep them busy for at least another hour? I j-I just...don’t know how this is going to work out, hon.”

“Darling, if you aren’t in one piece when we get home, whoever did it won’t be.”

He laughed, “I understand. Talk to you later, love you, Mir.”

“You better, love.”