This morning I read that police in Michigan are extracting data from phones without a warrant, even for routine traffic stops. The Department of Homeland Security has ordered half a billion bullets. Supreme Court Justices are squinting at careful penmanship.
Sitting in my hotel room, I stop thinking about the eggs Benedict at the cafe across the street. My eyes linger on things close to me: the Doric shaft of the lamp on the table, its patina of spatterings. A label on the base says: 120V 60Hz 5 Amps Max. The auxiliary electrical outlet is upside-down, perhaps to confuse me into reading the accompanying text.
I force my eyes to walk around the room, and they wander through the bedroom doorway. The jerking shadow of a tree branch on the white curtains still drawn startles me. I cannot hear the wind moving.