A Cold Stare in November

Ted grabbed his plain white towel from the rack. 9:00 pm, one week since America had voted their conscience – for better or for worse.

He dried off and wrapped the towel around himself.

“I’m calm, I’m determined… I’m consistent,” Ted spoke firmly as he cleared the fog from the mirror. He glanced to the suit hanging by the door. He’d wear it tomorrow to mingle among the other senators. But he knew he was above them. He knew he could bring the people something greater.

Ted looked at himself in the mirror. He grabbed the edge of the marble counter and leaned into it. He met his own gaze with a cold stare. “I’m calm, I’m determined, I’m consistent.” He repeated his mantra.

His eyes were a bit sunken – he wasn’t sleeping as much these days. His gait was more deliberate and his stride was longer. His shoulders swayed smoothly and his focus had grown sharper. Something had changed.

He hadn’t been robbed of the delegates. Not by a long shot. “If anything,” Cruz thought as he leaned on the counter and watched his own staunch expression, “if anything I’ve been vindicated. Those who know will always know. Those who don’t know yet will know soon.”

The election was over, sure. But Ted’s time in public service was far from over. He had been invigorated. He had been spurned…for a time. He had been overcome…by a fad. But the tides would change. The world would spin and the country would come around.

“One day, they’ll understand why I said what I said. Why I did what I did. One day they’ll see the light, the light that has long since left the Republican party. And it will fall upon the only man who can pull it from the darkness. Who can save it from itself – who can bring it back to true greatness.”

Ted stared himself squarely in the eyes. He took a slow, sturdy breath. “I’m calm, I’m determined, I’m consistent.”

Ted gave himself one sharp nod. He said simply: “I’m coming back.”