David Sawyer walked into the kitchen of his townhouse and thrust his tablet at his husband James.
"I’m running for city council," he said.
James neither took the tablet nor looked up from his coffee and toast. "The elections were last month," he said. "And we already have a councilman. Please inform those responsible for maintaining your information bubble that they are falling down on the job."
"We had a councilman," David said. "Note the tense." He thrust the tablet at James again.
James took it, frowning. "Councilman Krugg is dead? When did that happen?"
"Last night," David said. "He’s been molting and he went out before his new carapace stiffened up. Was talking on his phone and not paying attention and walked in front of a bus. They say the death was instant."
"And messy," James said, glancing at the picture accompanying the story.
"He should have stayed off the streets until his carapace grew in," David said.
"When you walk in front of a bus I don’t think a full suit of chitin is going to help you much," James said. "As a general rule when it’s a city bus versus any biological creature, it’s safe to bet on the bus."
"The point is," David said, "Krugg’s seat is now open." He leaned over and pointed at the news story on the tablet. "They’re going to hold a special election in three weeks so the winner can serve the full term. And I’m going to run."