"...Or do you stand with me?" finished Adams, giving the congressional

secretary a curious glance. He had just questioned his loyalty; to mother England,

or this new fledgling nation they were to call America. The last thing John Adams

expected was Mister Thomson's actual reply.

"I stand with the general."

For a moment, silence flooded the chamber.

"Well lately," Charles continued, "I've had the oddest feeling...that he's been

writing to me."

He bowed his head and skimed the letter in his hands before reading it aloud to

expectant Bostonian, who by that time, has taken a seat in Mister Hancock's chair.

"I have been in expectation of recieving a reply on the subject of my last fifteen

dispatches. Is anybody there? Does Anybody care?"

Does Anybody care?

"...Your humble and obedient..." The secretary trailed off, lost in thought. He had left

out the customary "G. Washington" that followed this and all the previous dispatches from

General Washington.

After finishing, Thomson looked back at Adams, who seemd to be lost in his own thoughts,

and let his feet carry him out of the room, and into a cool Philidelphia evening. Once he was a few

blocks way, Thomson stopped and realized Washington's letter was still tightly clutched in his hand.

And no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't let go. When the General's dispatches had been a

source of dismay for the rest of congress they had bee a ray of sunshine for dear secretary Thomson.

When he read those words, he felt as if he was speaking his own thoughts. Hopeless. That's what the

continental army was. That was how Thomson felt.

In congress, day after day, watching what he considered a handful of idiots and a handful of geniuses

bicker over the fate of their colonies. It seemed those letters were the only thing keeping him sane. In all

honesty he didn't care if America became independant or not, he just wanted George washington to survive

the war.