Mrs. Kline found the envelope under a stack of catalogs on Tuesday morning.
“Oh no,” she said.
Her husband had mailed his ballot three days before Election Day. He had checked the date twice. Then he had slipped it into the blue box outside the post office on his way to work.
Now the election was over.
Their town had a close race for mayor. Less than two hundred votes separated the two people on the screen. The news said thousands of mail ballots were still arriving.
At the county office, Devon stared at a tray of envelopes. Each one had a postmark. Some were from Saturday. Some were from Monday. Some had no clear mark at all.
His boss set two rule books on the desk.
“The state has to choose one rule before the next election,” she said. “We can count ballots that were mailed on time and arrive a few days later. Or we can count only the ballots that are here by Election Day.”
Devon looked at the envelopes.
His aunt used mail voting because she couldn’t drive anymore. She planned ahead. She followed the rules. A late truck or a slow postmark could erase her vote.
But his friend Caleb had worked as a poll watcher. Caleb said people needed to know when the count ended.
“If we keep adding ballots after Election Day, folks will think the whole thing never stops,” Caleb had said. “A deadline has to mean something.”
That night, Mrs. Kline sat at her kitchen table with the empty ballot envelope.
“It was sent on time,” she said. “That should count.”
Devon’s boss handed him the draft rule.
One line said, **Count ballots sent by Election Day.**
The other said, **Count ballots received by Election Day.**
Outside, the mail truck turned onto the street.