CHAPTER 2

August 2016

It had been a long, hot, sticky summer, and the car Sohrab drove was pretty much the same.  He’d had no luck finding a cheap mechanic to repair the air conditioner in his wife’s car, and fares in DC had been few and far between of late.  The silly season was upon them, clinging to every pillar and branch like a swarm of horny cicadas, many legislators out of town for meet-and-greet with the folks back home, or raking in piles of last-minute donor cash; most locals were glad to see their backside.  Don’t let the door hit ya on the ass on the way out.  It became a collective cry of frustration for the city, and most would celebrate when the clock struck midnight on this weird and wonderful election year.

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