Three Feet Behind

Political post alert.

Red carpet.
The Russian Guy smirks. The American Guy's applauding, beaming like a giddy fangirrl. The Russian Guy beams too, for different reasons. The Russian Guy sits comfortably and smirks again, at a shouted question. The American Guy sits next to him, hunched and not so comfortable. The Russian Guy doesn't answer.

Everyone's gathered as they take their spot. Everyone's waiting and everyone's watching. The Russian Guy grabs the mic. He must be the host. He speaks in Russian. The American Guy looks like a wrinkly 15-year-old boy, waiting for his first job interview. He waits and waits. For eight minutes, he waits.

And then he finally speaks, the American Guy, but he says nothing. He thanks the Russian Guy and calls him The Boss. Four minutes and he's done. People wonder why they came.

The Russian Guy walks out.
The American Guy follows.
Three feet behind.