Page 36 - Demo

was correct, and I held up the split ball, the shell cracked open along the seam as if it were a partially opened Easter egg. “I really got this one.”
“Sheesh! Nice work,” he remarked, having already filled the first bucket. It usually only took us a minute or two to round them all up when we did it together. We treated the ritual in much the same way as I see pit crews treat changing tires. Hasty efficiency.
Both buckets refilled, I glanced back up at Dad. “Still got one more round in you?”
Dad rolled his shoulders a few times, like a grounded bird opening and closing its wings. “I think so. Definitely the last one though.”
That was fine by me. I was happy enough that he had come out at all. Had he not been up for it, I likely would have wandered back here alone to take swings. God knows where my mind could have gone then. Remember? The world is ending! Damn it. In the frenzy of exercise, I had almost forgotten. Almost.
“Have they called it yet?” I blurted out, unable to help myself. I was still far from familiar with the intricacies of the electoral college. They say that familiarity breeds contempt, and while I certainly found that to be true in many cases, I still held quite a bit of contempt for what seemed to be an elaborate excuse to usurp the will of the people.
Dad let out a humorless chortle. “Oh yeah. It’s been over for a few hours. She’s sure to concede soon.”
Something rose up from my guts, as if I were about to throw up the last vestige of hope that I’d managed to keep down from dinner. I felt my breath shorten momentarily,