Fourteen Years and a Single Ledger from the Autumn Election

His coat was tailored, the dark wool catching the bright light from the high windows as lawyers and clerks hurried past him.

“I found this in the archived tour boxes this morning,” I said, holding out the neon purple pass.

Pras took the laminate, his thumb brushing over the faded silver foil. A faint, genuine smile appeared on his face before his expression continue reading …