The morning after, my husband told me:
Trump won. And I said no, this can’t be right. I just can’t do this again. Then, I said:
we need to leave this country knowing we didn’t have anywhere we could go. My children don’t even have valid passports.
And we don’t have the cash to pay the fees, the resources to apply for citizenship in a country where they value the lives of women, where they respect the rights of
people who don’t bow down to their fake
idol bigot god. Then my car wouldn’t start, and I scream cried. I had to go to work
because I am not the idle rich. The bills
pour in in excess of my ability to pay them.
No one cares if my car works, if I am okay.
I am just a chair body on the teller line.

The next day I woke, realized that yesterday morning’s nightmare wasn’t a dream. Still, I got up, delivered my book to someone who wanted to buy it, went to work where I made small talk about the weather, as if I didn’t understand that the world was being ripped apart stitch by stitch while the gleeful cheered. I guess we just go on like automations as they strip away right by right.

Bio: Lori D’Angelo’s stories have appeared in various magazines such as Broken Antler Magazine, Idle Ink, Litmora, Divinations, Thin Veil Press, Worm Moon Archive, and Wrong Turn Lit. Her first book, a collection of short stories titled The Monsters Are Here, is forthcoming from ELJ editions on Halloween 2024. Find out more at loridangelo.com.