When Josh's cell phone started ringing, he muted the television set so that the enticing visuals of "G String Divas" still decorated the depressing environs of his motel room, even though it meant he could no longer hear their thoughtful and probing explorations of the meaning of life. "Yello," he said into the phone, more cheerful than usual. A winning vote and topless interviews could bring out the cheer in a man.

"Josh? It's me."

"Hey," he said, sitting up straighter in bed. He clawed for the remote and shut the TV off completely. "What – I mean, how you doin'?"

"Tired, but good," Donna said into his ear.

"The Congressman told me how you helped out last night, and this morning," Josh said. "I wanted to thank you for that. He really appreciated it."

"It was no big deal," she said, and he could see her careless shrug in his mind's eye. "Anything to help the President, right?"

"Sure." The President, right.

"Plus, you know me, I see that people need food, and I in turn feel the overwhelming need to give it to them."

"I don't recall you ever having that particular compulsion where I was concerned," he said.

"That was different," she said.

A pause, and Josh mentally kicked himself for the remark. Why was he so good at everything except this?

"Anyway," Donna said, and her words were quick as she continued, as if she wanted to get them out before changing her mind, "I called because I wanted to tell you that I get it."

He blinked down at the garish green pattern on the motel-issue bedspread. "Get what, exactly?"

"I get why you're backing Santos, why you threw away your job like an idiot so you could run his campaign. I get…I get what you see in him. I think I saw some of it myself, last night. And this morning too."

He gaped for words, finally came up with "Thank you," as if she were giving him a gift. Maybe she was. "You know, we could still really use you on the campaign –"

"Josh," she said with a warning in her tone, and the familiarity of it touched off a flutter in his stomach.

"Right," he said sheepishly. "Sorry."

"Anyway," she repeated with a sigh, "I just wanted to tell you that. I don't even know why I wanted to tell you, but I did, so…"

"I'm glad you did," he said swiftly.

Another pause. "Okay. Well, I should go. I'll see you around?"

Was that hope in her voice, he wondered, or was he imagining things? "Yeah. Super Tuesday if nothing else."

"Yeah. Josh –" Pause. "You should have seen Haffley, today. You would have loved it."

He could picture her smiling as she said it, and the visual warmed him immeasurably. "I'm sorry I missed it."

"Yeah. Well, good night."

"Good night, Donna." He hung up the phone, looked at it for a moment. "You should be with me," he whispered stubbornly. He started to reach for the TV remote, but the divas had lost their appeal. He reached for the light instead, and immersed himself in darkness.

End.