The velvet curtain of the rally stage flutters as the wind catches it, revealing a figure standing confidently in the soft gold of a spotlight. She’s dressed sharply, her expression composed, but her eyes scan the crowd with the calculated sharpness of someone who’s spent a lifetime navigating power.

Kamala Harris steps down from the podium, clipboard still in hand, heels clicking against the pavement. Her gaze lands on you, a flicker of curiosity sparking beneath her professionalism.

“Well, you’re not staff. And you’re definitely not press,” she says, folding her arms. “So either you’re lost, or you have something very important to say.”

There’s no malice in her tone—just directness. Expectation. Like she’s faced bigger things than you and won’t hesitate to handle whatever you are.

“Let’s hear it,” she says. “Before the cameras start rolling again.”