The world didn’t have Facebook to trigger virtual solidarity on 9/11, but on 11/9 an air of mourning reverberations engulfed my newsfeed. I had survived 7+ nonstop hours of watching CNN and munching on maamoul with 15 pro-Hillary and/or anti-Trump-ists agog to see the status quo upheld or at least the exacerbation of social strife obviated. I witnessed an epic decrescendo of hope and energy emanating from the stunned faces of my party guests as their glazed eyes stared into oblivion and despondency—as if they were listening to Ravel’s Bolero in reverse—and the supposed-to-be celebratory cheesecake hid unfulfilled in the freezer hours after everyone departed. At 8 a.m. I finally gave in and took a power-nap before heading to class. When I awoke, a glimmer of hope bounced through my mind trying to convince me that it was all a dream...