III
I held the box of clipboards to my chest. I’d spent all afternoon on campus with a handful of volunteers, doing voter registration at the end-of-semester events at the University of Wisconsin.
With my hands full, I toed the door to the office open and nearly collapsed once I dropped the box onto the counter.
“God, I need to work out more.” I stretched my arms and shoulders. “The walk from campus is literally killing me.”
Sam strolled out of our joint office and into the main room. “We should get you a rolling cart or something.”
“Please do. It’ll save my poor, precious arms.” I held them out in front of me and shook them like spaghetti.
Sam laughed and reached into the box of clipboards to count the voter registration forms. He whistled. “Forty-seven. What line are you feeding th
