Mara lost the confidence vote by three.
She came out of the union hall carrying the same worn satchel she had taken inside. Iven had waited across the street, where a seller of boiled eggs had spent the last half hour explaining why unions ought to elect her instead.
Mara saw him and stopped.
“Well,” she said.
He crossed to her.
“What do you need?”
“Five minutes before anyone tells me I’m still a good person.”
He nodded.
