Jane and Dick allowed themselves a mental health day.
They debated where to go for breakfast. Jane held out for beignets.
Around noon they climbed out of the Smithsonian Metro station and strolled arm-in-arm through the National Mall.
They sang calliope tunes on the carousel that was a rendezvous point when they first fell in love. Food trucks were parked exactly where they were supposed to be.
As they worked their way back to Columbia Heights, they flirted with a hopeful Japanese Chin at a rescue shelter and made silly faces for toddlers at a playground (other people’s kids are so cute).
They bought tequila and limes, and as they watched night came on they downed a pitcher of margaritas between them.
Not long ago the evening would have turned physical but things have changed since Dick and Jane lost their White House jobs. Gone is that incredibly powerful aphrodisiac rush they got from inventing fictions that were repeated on Fox News.
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