Electioneering
Betsy stepped out of her shoes, let her purse fall to the floor right next to the door, and walked over to the couch as if someone had turned up the gravity in her house. She flopped down onto the cushions with a whoosh of breath, and quietly resolved to herself that she wouldn’t even think about moving for at least a few minutes. Even something as simple as finding the remote could wait–all her shows were Tivoed anyway, which was a good thing considering it was seven o’clock and she’d just now...