our president is corrupt

our president is corrupt

She touched and pushed a button. A shelf popped out. She withdrew a bundle and placed it on top of the table. It was a paper box. Time has come …to confront this threat, to bite off this monster’s head. She must fight back, she thought.
She began fumbling the box roughly until she untied it. There were old currencies used during the civil war, many pictures including two rumpled pictures of four teenagers, photographs of rooms filled with things, surveillance bugs, devices, files, and letters.
She gathered the things in the box, lifted it up, and then let go of it to the floor.
“Henri Ayota…! Henri Ayota…,” she screamed angrily. Gasping for air and shaking all over. Then she mopped the tears streaming down her cheeks, grabbed a green unlisted phone, and made a long distant call to a law chambers in London...a friend she had seen for more than twenty years.