A thick drop of blue ink seeped from my old fountain pen and stained the thumb of my left hand. I rubbed the spot against my wool cardigan sleeve, but the dark blue smudge only spread wider across the fabric.
The basement archive room smelled of yellowed parchment paper and old floor wax. Outside, the steady autumn rain hit the copper dome of the state capitol, sending a dull hum through the stone foundation.
I was sorting the pile of seventy-five dollar certified map requests, verifying the coordinates for a boundary dispute out near the flatwoods. Each request required my official signature before the county commissioners would recognize the property lines.
The door clicked open, and Don Davis adjusted his silver wrist watch as he stepped into the light of the humming fluorescent tubes. Don was fifty-four, his hair silvering at the temples, and his posture was always as upright as a soldier on parade.
“The legislative drafting office just sent these over, Clara,” he said.
He laid a heavy leather folder across my oak desk, right over my stack of yellowed land records.
“They are splitting Edgecombe County,” he said.
“We spent twenty years keeping that boundary whole,” I said, pulling my reading glasses down to polish them on my sleeve.
“They took the western line and cut it straight through the middle of the township,” Don said.
His low, resonant voice sounded dry, like dust on a road. I pulled a long-archived 2010 boundary ledger from the shelf, its cold brass drawer handle chilling my fingers.
I carried the official county population charts up to the second floor of the legislative building at eleven. The carpeted hallway was warm and smelled of wet wool coats and cedar shavings.
Ralph Hise sat behind his massive walnut desk, slowly twirling a heavy brass pen between his knuckles. Ralph was fifty-two, but he moved with the rigid, calculated posture of a man who had already planned his next three steps.
“These are the certified numbers from the summer review, Senator,” I said, placing the population charts before him.
