As the silence dragged on she found her mind wandering, wondering. Why is it called a pregnant pause? Was there some sort of expectation or guarantee that a prolonged period of not talking would result in a resolution of some sort? If that were true, why didn’t Congress just try shutting up for a couple of weeks?

Unconsciously she picked at her cuticles with her nails, rendering the already rough skin even more ragged, as she contemplated this new political system. Would they give her a suite in the White House if she wrote in to propose this daring idea? Dear Mr. President…

She knew she was meant to be carefully considering his words, and that he was still looking at her expectantly, waiting for a response. She knew that if he could read her mind right then, he would be…well, he probably wouldn’t even bother getting mad. He’d probably just walk out.

It was hard to focus her mind on what he had said, however, when she was busy reforming the country’s administration. It was so much easier and so much more fun than dealing with the reality that had been harshly pushed in front of her face.