Amid the razors, toothbrushes and a half-used toothpaste bottle, she stared directly into the mirror, tracing the dark purple circles under her eyes with a manicured fingernail.

It wasn't the most delicious sight in the world, but she couldn't help but stare at herself.

She kept telling herself that it was the harsh light of the bathroom that was giving her this awful impression, but deep inside of her, she knew that wasn't true and that everyone was telling the truth. And that truth being that she wasn't taking care of herself.

Throat dry, she finally turned away from the mirror and turned on the cold water, cupping her hands and splashing her face, getting water in her hair and on her pajamas.

He was gone that night, being that Josh and Toby told him that he needed to get out of the house for a guys night out. She felt a hollow feeling expand in her stomach and become colder. She kept going around, asking herself, 'what about me?'. Didn't she need to get out of the house too?

She knew it was a futile question to ask. Most of her female friends-all right, the vast majority of them-were in California and she hadn't had a decent conversation with one of them in over a year. Going to the women at work was out of the picture. Most of the assistants in the west wing had their own little groups set up that didn't include the Senior Staff. And going to Donna would've just felt different. Despite the fact that she was the most notable out of all the assistants, Josh was really the only one that enjoyed her company.

It wasn't just Donna that was getting on her nerves lately. Everyone from the paperboy to the President was pissing her off lately. She snapped at the littlest thing and her nerves felt shot, going haywire when even Sam tried to touch her in bed.

Crawling back under the covers, she sighed rejectedly. One hand under the pillow, she laid her head on the other one and closed her eyes.

Lips curving into a smile, she hoped the "boys" were having a good time on their night out. They deserved it, she knew that. They were all cooped up in the White House way too long, but she was angry with being passed over.

Opening her eyes quickly, she fluttered them, feeling her eyelashes against her face and let her heart beat faster, listening for another noise that flashed through her brain like prickles.

It was there again, and she could then make out that it was someone walking, trying not to make a sound. Going to her back, she stared, squinting her eyes to make it seem as if she asleep to make out the outline of Sam in the doorway, walking to the bathroom.

Turning over, she stared out the window and saw the streetlamp's glow faintly through the flimsy curtains that she bought on a whim only days before.

He entered their bedroom-what a weird thought that was for her, thinking something was theirs-and lifted the sheets to let himself in. She could feel his heat radiate over to her and she gulped down unspoken words.

He felt gritty against her skin, his smooth chest, save for some hair, against her back and the trail of hair that went from his naval to below the top of his boxers flattened against her ass.

She felt him kiss her neck and then tighten his hold. They ended up like this a lot; not that she minded it.

Letting him trace shapes on her arm, she closed her eyes, feeling a deep sensation fill her head and make her eyelids heavy. This is what sleep felt like and she was letting it come to her, her arms wide open for entry.