Donald stood there in his Trump Tower apartment next to the ceiling-to-floor window, his eyes gazing down at the noisy city below. From here inside his secluded apartment on the top floor of Trump Tower, everything was quiet.
Now, being the 45th President, he was working around the clock. Before he could at least get 5 hours of sleep, now he was lucky to even get a couple minutes. These past couple of months had been incredibly tough-- work and personal. This was the closest thing to peace he could afford.
His wife, Melania, was still gone for what seemed like a month. She had gotten into a battle of words with him because of his obligatory work schedule which required him to be gone for days off end. He wasn't going to lie, it did distract him from his personal life. Donald was hoping she would have come back by now but any phone calls, letters, and the enormous amount of text messages were ignored. Donald was even going out of character to include a heavy amount of apologies and sentiments. Nothing seemed to be working.
Like her, he still had needs of his own that weren't being fulfilled. Unlike popular belief, Donald wasn't a cheater. He could always handle matters for himself. He drifted his eyes away from the window and looked down at his right hand which casually laid on his belt buckle as always.
