I would like to thank Annieandy & darkangel718310. They were great editors.
Any errors are my fault. I went back and had a nerdgasm over certain paragraphs after they were edited. You have my apologies. There is a lot of detail and it takes time to get to the sex. There will be mistakes feel free to help me improve, by telling me what can be fixed.
My American Dream: Best friends have their dreams fulfilled My American Dream: Best friends have their dreams fulfilled.
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Mathew Moore stood there in silence with a reflective calm, his right palm firmly pressed against the window. He had thought the Columbus Streets would be moving at a faster pace; not on a chaotic level like what he once saw in New York, just a bit busier. He'd been all over the globe researching for his degrees and books, but he never spent so much time in big cities. His college days in Cambridge and Oxford were spent in a type of residential seclusion.
.
The last few months were a hell of a time; the election campaign forced Mathew out of his comfort zone. Cleveland and Columbus then into Cincinnati followed by smaller comfortable places, and then repeated again, again and again. The months of campaigning and repetition were now over, and it looked like Mathew would be heading back to the world, of academia. However, his cushy administrative position would not be awaiting his return.
Mathew kept thinking of all the potential good he could have done had he won tonight. Looking at the now darkened reflective glass he saw his business cut dark brown hair, and the navy blue suit that rested like a glove on his tall frame." Could I at least keep the suite after the election?" he thought.
Mathew began to tweak with the lapel pin that had been etched to his blazers for months. He had a sort of idealistic faith in people that could light up a lecture hall. From day one, he believed he could win even though hardly anyone else did. He wasn't supposed to win either; the party simply needed a body in the race. No one else was stupid enough to take on a fortified four term opponent like "Harold Bloom Jr."
Mathew based the likelihood of his winning on his belief that this was the real world, with legitimate concerns; people weren't just going to elect an entrenched name attached to mediocre achievements over the more qualified candidate, were they? The numbers up until the debate a week ago contrasted his idealistic nature.
"Only if the Bloom campaign had agreed to the earlier debates;" Mathew said aloud. Mathew was in his zone when it came to the economy, and it was beginning to show in the polling numbers.
"One more week," Mathew whispered softly. "One more fucking week!" he yelled, punching the wall with his clenched left hand.
Mathew tilted his head to the left of his hotel room, peering at the desk to the side. Resting there mockingly as a symbol of his supposedly unavoidable destiny of failure, was the speech he had written seconds ago. It wasn't the speech he wanted to write tonight.
Mathew had been privately reciting a victory speech in his head for months. It now looked like it was destined to be a private joke.
Just then, a knock came at the door that connected his room to that of his campaign manager. Seconds after the knocking there was a roar of footsteps and chanting in the hallway. "Mat, Mat Mat!" chanted the voice of a unified campaign team.
His cellphone then began to ring.
"Hello," Mathew said.
"This was a fluuuke Professorrr see you in six years." The man said groggily.
"Who is this?"
