Jed Wolf

The morning of his second election, before waking up my screens went dark in protest— graphite escaped from splitting pencils while ink dried in abandoned pens and keyboards froze solid refusing to type the horror.

Before dawn could find me I lay counting breaths letting panic seep away like thunder fading into morning silence while the world slept on wrapped in uneasy dreams

Before coffee in the mirror’s first light I practiced my armor: a smile sharp enough to cut through coming storms.