Fourteen Years and a Single Ledger from the Autumn Election

Forty-two dollars for daily parking was the first thing I noted in my personal ledger that morning, a dry receipt to be filed against the firm’s general ledger. The G Street archive basement was damp, smelling faintly of old floor wax and disintegrating cardboard, with the low hum of the heating pipes vibrating through the metal shelving.

I reached continue reading …