George Washington looked through his leveling instrument when he heard the sound of hoofs. He looked up, and saw the rider approaching.

A small cloud of dust rose, tracing the path the rider was taken down the dirt road that worked its way through the plantation.

It was wonderful here. He appreciated the life he had now. Was it life? He wasn’t sure. He didn’t care. He simply enjoyed it.

The rider pulled up.

“Mr. President,” the rider said, tipping his hat.

“Mr. President,” Washington replied, returning the salute.

“Are you going to see the results of the election?” John Adams, the rider, asked.
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