I mean, this is a story of a young family and moving into a new house and I don't know,

I think it's a nice little slice of life and I really hope you guys like it.

Move your day.

Come on, Chelsea. Last one to put their box in their bedrooms, a rotten egg.

The sounds of excited footsteps pitted across the old wood floors.

Hillary plumped a box down on the grand kitchen counter and wiped the sweat from her forehead,

grinning ear to ear. She couldn't believe it. After everything her and Bill and Chelsea for

that matter had been through, they had finally made it. The White House.

It was almost too surreal. Hillary and her husband had been dreaming about this day for what felt

like decades in yet. It had all become theirs so quickly, or at least it felt that way,

as she stood watching Chelsea trample up the old staircase clutching a worn cardboard box

overflowing with stuffed animals and school notebooks. I wonder if Lincoln ever leaned on this

very counter, dissecting the evils of slavery and how to stop it. Hillary thought, resting her elbows

on the counter and feeling a deep sense of love and admiration for African Americans.

I can't believe you guys got most of the boxes already. I feel like this is going to be his lines

always are going to be a fucking problem for me. I'm sorry. Well, yep. I can't believe you guys got

most of the boxes already. I feel like toad. Bill snatched into the room, chuckling to himself.

He took pause to notice his strong life, her sleeves rolled up and sporting a broken

in pair of Levi's jeans. What? Hillary asked playfully. Bill was always handsome, but now that he was

the president of the United States, there was something extra about him. He pulled her in for a quick

warm embrace. You're the only woman I want to look at for the rest of my life.

The words nearly took her breath away, but only because she knew Bill meant it. In the decades

...