The Votive Angel by Moira Wairama
Thinking it�s the delivery pizza, he opens the door to The Votive Angel, arrayed in slogan-splattered silks, carrying her sword-sharp pen. Silently she strides past him, her silver boots crunching empty beer cans. �Apathetics,� she roars to the house at large, �Arise and vote.� The woman in the kitchen stirring soup looks up, �Who for, dear?� she inquires amiably. �Think,�