Fourteen Years and a Single Ledger from the Autumn Election

the quiet smile, was already down there with his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

“These are the last of the 2012 campaign files, Eleanor,” he said, lifting a heavy cardboard box with a quiet grunt.

“They belong on the top shelf, behind the old tax folders,” I said, pointing toward the metal racks near the back of the room.

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