The car stopped outside the community.
Jasmine Yale stood with her belly protruding, her arm still draped with her coat.
She walked home along the winding road, and in the night, there was a vacant look in her eyes.
Yellow leaves fell on the ground, making a creaking sound underfoot.
There were stray cats meowing.
On a clearly silent, beautiful night, Jasmine Yale's heart felt numb.
She walked very slowly, feeling like everything that had just happened was a dream, yet the scattered bloodstains on her shirt told her it wasn't.
None of it was a dream.
The streetlights stretched her shadow long, very long.
In solitude, she walked alone.
At this moment, the phone in her hand rang.
Jasmine Yale glanced at the screen, slightly startled, Sylvan Cheney? He hadn't contacted her for a long time. What did he want to say to her?
Jasmine Yale pressed the answer button and slowly placed the phone to her ear, "President."
"Where are you?"
