He sighed and spent the rest of his ten minutes of silence playing a game on his phone, his one real guilty pleasure. At exactly ten minutes, he threw his door back open.

“Okay, who goes first?”

As he’d known would happen, Kara, his chief of staff, walked into the room. Kara had been by his side for three years now; he’d hired her to run his campaign for Senate in the early days, and he’d managed to convince her to come to DC with him after he won. Everyone had told him it was a bad idea to make your campaign chief of staff your Senate chief of staff, but he didn’t listen; he’d known from the first time he met her that he and Kara would work well together. And he’d been right not to listen—she did a great job steering his ship, and any bad decision he’d made so far in the Senate was his fault, not hers.

“You’re in a bad mood today, sir—were the hearings as boring from inside the room as they seemed on TV?”

He laughed. This was also why he liked working with Kara; she could come right out and say he was in a bad mood. All of his other staffers were too polite and formal with him; he still wasn’t used to it.

“Even more so, if possible,” he said. “Sorry for snapping at everyone, it’s been a long week.”

Kara shook her head.

“Sir, it’s Wednesday.”

In his first year in the Senate, he’d tried to break Kara of her habit of calling him “sir,” but to no avail. She’d told him that he was just as worthy of respect as all the older senators were, and she wasn’t going to let anyone think he wasn’t, down to what she called him. He’d given up, but it still felt weird to him. Wes was one of the only people in this whole city who called him by his first name.

He sat down at his desk and picked up a pen.

“Okay, what’s on the agenda?”

Kara looked down at her notebook.

“You asked me to check in with my contacts with leadership about your criminal justice reform bill, and . . . it’s not great news. Unfortunately— ”

He sighed.

“In an election year, when some of the people who would vote for the bill are fighting tooth and nail for their seats, we don’t want to give their opponents ammunition,” he finished her sentence. “Is that it?”

They both knew he was quoting her own words back to her. She’d said that to him months ago, when he’d told her he wanted to push this bill now, this year. She’d tried to get him to wait until the following January. But he hadn’t listened.

“That’s certainly part of it, sir,” she said, her eyes firmly on her notepad. Kara never said “I told you so,” even when he knew she must be dying to.

He let out a deep sigh. He knew what Kara wasn’t actually saying out loud was that his bill was close to dead. Damn it.

“I’m not going to give up on this, I’m sure you already know that.”

Kara stood up.

“I did already know that, as a matter of fact.” She grinned at him. “That’s why I work for you.”

After three more meetings with his staffers, Max gathered up his papers to walk home. It was already dark, and he was suddenly depressed. About being in this dark, cold, lonely city; about having this difficult, stressful, pointless job, where personalities and conflicts and elections and money mattered more than helping people; about not having anyone to talk to about any of that.

He picked up his phone, but no, Olivia hadn’t texted. Instead he texted Wes, whom he hadn’t seen since the week before, because of their terrible schedules.

Heading home now, and look at me, I’m going to order the pizza this time. What kind do you want?

He walked out of his office and waved to his staff members who were still there. As he left the building, he looked back down at his phone, willing Olivia to contact him, right now, tonight, to turn this day around.

Just then, a text flashed across his screen.

Was this it? Did he finally have magical powers? If so, maybe there was hope for his criminal justice reform bill.

Nope, not Olivia.

Beat you to it; a pizza—and a SALAD—should arrive right when you do. But you can pick up more beer on the way home, we’re almost out.

Damn it. There went the one victory he thought he’d get today.

He took the food out of the hands of the delivery guy as he walked into their apartment building, and opened their apartment door to find Wes on the couch in his sweatpants.

“Here’s the food and the beer.” He tossed everything on the table.

Wes looked up at him and narrowed his eyes.

“No ‘Hi, honey, I’m home’? No complaints about the salad? What happened to you? Where’s Normal Max tonight?”

Max sat down and flipped open the pizza box.

“Normal Max has been beaten down by the machinery of the United States Senate, that’s where Normal Max went. Kara thinks my criminal justice reform bill is on life support. That’s confidential, of course.”

Wes patted him on the shoulder.

“Oh man, that sucks,” he said. “But the machinery of the United States Senate has beaten you down before, and I haven’t seen you like this since . . . What else is wrong?” His eyes widened and he held up a finger. “The girl! I haven’t seen you since last week—what happened with the girl?”