There was nothing remarkable about the meal, nor about the portly staff who served it - nothing save for the purple that still stains his right index finger.
I don’t know whom he voted for, but I know this: last night a torrent washed away an edifice, built cynically to last, and he was part of that immense, onward rush. He is just some guy today, but he was a little more than that just hours ago.
I remain convinced that I cannot change something too much bigger than me. But I am a little more convinced that, even if there are decades of evidence to the contrary, We can. I am Snowflake; we are Avalanche.