Love at First Sight

6

My question hung in the air for weeks.
Time passed, every second an eternity away from him. I never thought I'd talk to him again, let alone see him. Maybe I won't see him.
I saw someone walking by with a newspaper in hand. Vladimir's face was on it.
I stood up from my bench, my skin crackling and my knees creaking as I did so.
"Hey, you!" I bellowed, my lips in fish formation.
They looks up in obvious horror, but I couldn't care at this point. All I cared about was what the media has to say about my true love.
They ran away shouting bloody murder, dropping the newspaper into a muddy puddle. I picked it up, glad at how generous they were to me.
I looked down at the sopping newspaper, the headline making my head spin.

"Vladimir Putin found with young man; an affair?"
All of a sudden, I saw the obvious. No wonder he sounded so forced in the phone. No wonder he hasn't spoken to me on weeks.
It's as if none of his meant anything to him.
I mean nothing to him.

It was all a lie. Maybe we'll both pretend like we were never in love, sharing an umbrella in the rain or going out to an ice cream shop.
Maybe I'd never stare into his glossy blue eyes again, or run my hands through his hair, he obviously doesn't want me to.
The sky outside turned gray, matching my devastated mood.

My job as president was unnecessary jobs and work, just taking away more color from my life.

I decided that I needed to take a walk to clear my mind.

I walked out of the White House, shoving off the guards and security that followed me. I just needed time alone.
I walked over to the park in my golden attire, and sat down at an empty bench.
The squirrels around me cowered in fear at their supreme overlord, and I saw people walk faster when passing by me. One kid was walking by with a bag of pretzels, and when they passed me, their face twisted into disgust.
"Go away you filthy hobo!" They shouted, throwing a pretzel at me.
It landed in the folds of my neck, destined to stay there for all eternity.

The sky began to cry, me with it. People desperately ran away from me, giving me the well wanted peace I craved.
I sat there, thinking. The toupee I was wearing flopped off of my head, making a sloshing sound when it hit the sidewalk. I put the hairpiece back on my head, water from it dripping off.

I decided that I would see Putin, whether he wanted to see me or not.

I hobbled back to the White House, calling over my private jet and security team to escort me to Russia.