Nulla dies sine linea. Four sentences every day. About whatever happened that day. Most of it's even true. Written by Scott Lee Williams
Tuesday, June 22, 2021
We're talking about who we voted for as we leave the polling place, and I stop. "Wait 'til we pass the gauntlet," I say, indicating the mob of electioneers standing just beyond the 100-foot limit accosting every passerby with slogans, pamphlets, signs, pins, and weary, excessively cheerful smiles.
Katie grins and pats my chest where I'm wearing an "I VOTED" sticker. "We're inoculated!" she assures me, and we walk through the mass, unmolested.