Fourteen Years and a Single Ledger from the Autumn Election

tightening around his leather portfolio until the leather groaned.

“We need to see the clerk,” Peter said.

We walked down the long corridor toward the judge’s chambers, our footsteps echoing against the high stone walls.

The anteroom to the judge’s chambers was quiet, smelling of old leather bindings and the lemon oil they used on the mahogany baseboards.continue reading …