The White House waiting room was more crowded than usual that morning. I had been summoned for what I believed was a standard budget review. The air was thick with whispers and the sound of the December wind rattling the windows. I tried to focus on my notes, but the murmurings about the holiday decorations were impossible to ignore. « Can you believe the cost? » a voice hissed from behind a newspaper. I looked up, curiosity piqued.
A senior staffer approached me with a document. Her smile was polite but strained, a hint of anxiety in her eyes. « This just came in, » she said, handing me the paper. I took it, noting the date printed at the top: December 1st. My eyes scanned the invoice, the numbers staggering.
« Is this right? » I found myself asking aloud, not entirely expecting an answer. The staffer shrugged, her eyes darting away. « That’s what we’re here to discuss, » she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.
The meeting room was filled with familiar faces, all wearing expressions of feigned indifference. As the discussion began, I noticed the deliberate vagueness in the responses. Questions about the budget were met with rehearsed explanations, leaving a gnawing feeling of unease in the pit of my stomach.
« We need to address this, » someone finally said, breaking the façade of the routine. The room fell silent, and I felt the weight of the document in my hands. What was really going on here?
Read more on the next page ⬇️⬇️⬇️
