Based on the song “Touch of Grey” (J.Garcia/R.Hunter). Cover version by The War On Drugs

Tony—as bright and sunny as he always was—gave me short non-answers. Typical politician yes ma’am BS. I had the options to play a game of “21 Questions,” lose and rack up an ulcer or to just hang up on him and think of anything else. There was the thought that something had happened to her. Perhaps a kidnapping, bombing, or a town hall meeting with Ben Shapiro.
I felt an ulcer coming up anyway and hoped that it was just a fall, Gerald Ford style.

“Welcome home, Mr. Baker,” Tony stated as I tapped at the gate controls.
“Tony.”
“The garage will be opened for you.”
I only nodded as I looked at a man in black standing on the other side of the gate.
The Gestapo were out tonight.
He flashed a badge and walked to the car.
“Mr. Baker.”
“And you are?”
“Smith.”
“Right,” I replied with a small chortle to myself.
Smitty was not amused and flashed a high beam light at my face and the rest of the car.
“Security check sir.”
“Yes, I have a vial of di-hydrogen monoxide in a cup holder and a small amount of uranium in my hand here.”
“That is amusing, sir.”
“This isn’t Buckingham Palace or the Tomb of the Unknowns, have some humor.”
“You’re clear to come in, sir.”
The gate finally swung open and I floored the accelerator. I’m sure Tony heard it. I had hoped the “A-Team” would appear to stop me as I approached.

“What is going on, Anthony?” I barked as I stomped into the main hall.
Tony stood at the end of the darkened hallway. All of the lights were out except for the emergency ones. One would have thought we were invaded, Red Dawn style.
“Mayor Barker had an accident at a political functional.”
“Accident as in what? Where is she?”
“I’m in here, Paul,” my wife’s voice yelled from behind Tony.
I motioned for Tony to move and he reluctantly shuffled to the side.

My wife was lying back on a sofa that could have paid the college tuition of three students for a year. Her right leg was elevated and in cast.
“What happened, Geri?”
“I fell down half a flight of stairs.”
“Is it broken?”
“X-rays haven’t come back yet,” she replied as she reached for a glass on the side table next to the couch.
“Well, I’m glad you’re alright. What was the agenda for this evening.”
“Fundraiser.”
“I’m glad I missed that.”
“Yes, it was boring, but it is a necessity.”
“So why the radio silence and the DEFCON 1 level here?”
“Because, Paul, this makes me look weak.”
“Weak, no. Clumsy, maybe.”
“Shut up, Paul.”

“It was a joke, Geri.”
“You’re not a comedian, Paul. Not in the slightest. I’m going to bed. Tony?”
Tony marched over, assisted her off of the sofa and helped her hobble through the hall and upstairs.

My room was at the far end of the house.