Voter 1000

Dave came home ten minutes to 8pm, straight from voting. He told me I had better hurry if I wanted to make it through the doors before they locked them at 8pm. He stayed with the girls and put them to bed. I was the very last person through the doors, and the line extended down the entire length of the hall. Why did they combine FIVE precincts into one lousy room??? I was in line for two hours. Just me, my book, and the old gentleman who engaged with me in unspoken battle over who would be the last voter. I was winning, of course, I was the last person to enter the room... he kept pacing in and out of the room, casting furtive glances my way, while I still sat against the wall, pretending to be engrossed in my book. I thought he had given up when he disappeared and didn't emerge from the room again. But he was a clever old fox. As I approached the doorway, he bounced back out with the gleam of triumph already flashing in his eyes, and hid his dark purpose behind a pretense of gallantry: "After you!" What the?... FINE! How could I possibly argue? My consolation prize was that I was the 1000th voter.

Later, after telling Dave about the struggle that lasted two hours, including all the strategies applied, I finally realized from the dumb-founded expression on his face, the havic that two hours of boredom can wreak on the inner workings of my mind.