The ballroom was filled with journalists in formal put on. The burrata salad with spring peas had simply been served. A magician was demonstrating a feat of mind-reading to the President and people seated with him on the head desk. Gunshots rang out. It took a second to register with the attendees, who solely reacted when Secret Service brokers sprang into motion. A glance of shock came to visit the face of the First Girl. The President appeared over at her as if he wished her to be the very last thing he noticed earlier than eternity.
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