Killing Mrs. Landingham

It's a chilly night here in this eastern corner of the most northwestern state, and 20 past midnight just whirled past me, surprising, yet I somehow knew this day had quickly shuffled past, like a hope that just won't work. It is Inauguration Day, as I huddle in this chair, at this desk, in this corner of a state named after the first of 46 come tomorrow. A week ago, murder, sedition and insurrection were the on the menu, and I hesitate to sleep as those quiet minutes step closer to tomorrow's grand reveal. Our capitol city is under lockdown, and trust is on short supply. I turned yet again to another fix, one more West Wing episode, this one about inauguration, and yet, Part 1 yet ended, and it's 2:07am, and I'm still no closer to that bed. End of Part 1.