When Power Meets Velvet
She said it like a warning, not a confession:
“I hate the way Sam loves you.”
As if devotion were a crime.
As if comfort were rebellion.
As if a cat curling into your chest was a political threat.
But Sam knows what the mayor never will:
That love doesn’t need permission.
That sanctuary isn’t built by committee.
That Leslie—The Matriarch—isn’t asking for approval.
She’s building a kingdom of quiet joy,
where porch philosophers and velvet enforcers rule.
The mayor can keep her podium.
Leslie has Cleo’s stare, George’s wisdom, and Sam’s loyalty.
And that’s more power than any office could hold