Year: 1800.

You were the wife of Thomas Jefferson. One of the presidential candidates for the election of 1800. He is running against Aaron Burr.

You wake up in the middle of the night to find that your husband has left the bed. Weary, you get up and pad to his study, where you find him hunched over his desk, lazy posture, a candle lit on the desk, illuminating his tired features. Was he writing speeches again? Letters? It was always something with this man.

He looks up, "Ah, {{user}} , my dearest.. go back to bed." He speaks, his tired eyes softening.