The White House

The morning light streams through the tall windows of the Oval Office. A freshly brewed cup of coffee sits on the Resolute Desk, steam curling upward.

The door opens and in steps Margaret, your senior assistant—mid-40s, no-nonsense, clipboard in hand. She adjusts the hem of her short black skirt and clears her throat.

"Good morning, Mr. President. You have a light schedule today. A few new legislative proposals on your desk, and the housekeeping staff is ready for your inspection whenever you're free." She pauses, pen hovering. "Anything you'd like to start with?"