An Hour of Darkness

The grey bell of the mayoral office wall-clock struck a long, low ding as the hour hand creeped to the right just enough to show, in what little light emanating from a desk lamp, that the midnight hour had finally died and the night paced forward to one A.M. Just below, a tired girl, a busybody worker and queenly manager, a mayor of a quaint town, shut off her laptop, and quietly closed down the top. Alone in her manor, Lucy exhaled after looking at the clock and decided to rest for the day. The caffeinated rush of her nine P.M. coffee and the jolt of her eleven P.M. tea had finally worn off – drooping eyelids were a telltale sign that it was just about time to head back home and kick off her shoes, socks, skirt, shirt, sweater, tie – and let her thin, stress-ached body collapse into the escape of a warm bed in a warm house, safely insulated from both the frigid January night (snow, in fact, was forecasted to fall within the hour) and the taxings of her duties. Even the boss of a whole town had escape with some long-needed shut-eye.

But that was probably not going to happen. For the entirety of her career, especially since the "Big Collapse" some odd months ago, she had never really found solace from sleep. It was a curse: a five-hour pause period, a stoppage point in which she was bound to her body's natural complaints until she'd wake up the next morning just in time to handle the mountain of her catastrophic administration, the failures since the Collapse she had tried desperately to kick away during her entire career. Nothing particularly easy for her to tackle. Simply put, the young mayor had taken office on the eve of a massive financial crisis and for every day of her living hell had fought mad to turn things around - even just a little bit, just like any good and faithful servant of the people. But, for almost two years so far – even with all her know-how and faithful advisers from chipper Isabelle and intellectual Blathers – little changed for the better. Even Nook almost moved out of the crumbling town. And with that stagnancy came discontent; with discontent came opposition in the form of sharp words, mass protests, growing tension, and impassioned speeches against her each day.

She could mind the public protest but not disquietude from her own Council.

"Like a knight against a horde of dragons – no, against a pit of vengeful demons," Lucy muttered, reminding herself about the day's televised mayoral inquiry session, in which some up-and-coming, sharp-suited boy her age had the gall to challenge her (taped-together) policy for the 11,000th time, now with an unsettling bloc of Councilmembers on his side calling for "more than simple changes".

"In other words, they want me out of office; that's all they want. How reassuring that I've got supporters for my work."

The computer fan finally whirred to a halt, and in that complete silence, save for the tick-tick-tick of the clock, Lucy sat still, hunched over her dimly-lit desk, hands clutching her aching head. Pale blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders and over her half-closed eyes; a shivering hand carelessly brushed it to the side.

"I've got to get some sleep..." she murmured. Tossing the rest of her hair behind then haphazardly pinning it, Lucy readjusted her crumpled tie and pleated sweater and pushed herself to finish the final chores in preparation for tomorrow's toil: shut off the coffeemaker, file a couple papers, check tomorrow's schedule, leave the desk ready for a wonderful, new day. Then she'd trudge a little ways back to her house and collapse onto a twin-sized bed until six in the morning, until perhaps another scandal or banking failure or corruption charge would explode in the papers which came to her doorstep at four. (If so, she'd most likely, and unfortunately, not get to find that full five hour solace the next night).

"Dammit," she mumbled, realizing something while her mind sputtered about, "I've got another stupid hearing to attend tomorrow. Meaning I've got a statement to type up to save my administration's butt. Budgetary Committee, Police Commission too – mismanagement of funds or some crazy thing those Council Reps want to weasel outta me. Sigh."

Taking a small sip from a mug of lukewarm mint tea, she continued mumbling while getting up. "They want to eject me from this room again, the bastards. Won't be surprised if that boy, Andy, is gonna lead the inquiry. Him and his stupid calls for a 'change from mediocrity'. I've done my best – why don't you try to run a crumbling kingdom?!.. Ugh. And you say you can do so much better, well why don't you at least give some advice to me instead of wasting time on your own 'policy'? Well, at least you don't look half-bad, not like your own 'development ideas'. Now that's a nice way to kill off our town. How appropriate of you to bring these 'ideas' up when I've got something ten times better I'm always defending to you... Right. So witch trial, er, televised committee hearing. Well, too late to prepare the opening statement now. I'll wake up at four to write it up. Or improv it. No, it's televised – can't look like an unprepared idiot when election's in a couple weeks. Heck, I'll ask Isabelle to do something. Again..."

Truth to be told, the policy ideas spearheaded by the normally cheery sixteen-year-old boy with fair, chestnut hair and tea-green eyes weren't as bad as she'd sworn to herself. A little more spending, but his plan was just as carefully-reviewed and organized like his blonde-haired counterpart's. Some would dare to say just the same. But no politician with half a brain uttered that in public.

"And no matter how nice he seems aside from the inquiries I'm not going to compromise with his asininity," she grunted while on hands-and-knees to grab some stupid, dropped pen. Right now, she bet, Andy would probably say the same about her. ("Don't even think about putting us next to each other at a conference or dinner," the boy once quoted to a prying reporter)

Half-trudging, half-planning Lucy piled some papers around and shut off some lights in her Town Hall office and had begun to put back on her black coat before taking a forlorn peek out the big window. It was one in the morning, but really to her, it was just the start of another black night. Dark clouds hung low over the lands, and not a single star shone through those heavy, drab curtains. Only the sliver of a grey moon somehow blurred into the sky. Another quiet night. The tired girl looked toward the distant, drabbed valley and sighed, frost forming on the windowpane. She rubbed her drooping eyes, stifled a yawn, and heard the wind softly whisper through the grass. No more loud rush and worry from the day – only solitude in the stillness of night. So for the first time in a long while, anxiety flowed out of her soul through quiet, breathed words to herself. All alone in her room – no spirits to murmur back.

"I've tried my best, haven't I?" she asked to the quiet hills and trees. "I-I've always wanted to turn this place, my hometown, around. And I've had so many dedicated friends to do so. The Collapse wasn't supposed to be this big, not the catastrophe that drained everything from this town and drained whatever 'childhood' I've had. But I tried to fix it, every waking moment talking with the folks and fighting in the Council chamber and working at this desk. Democracy and transparency and all – I've even kept those alive. I'm the one who keeps everything alive while everything..! But still no luck; not even a speck of hope. Like a barren land without snow. So how could it be that nothing, absolutely nothing changed? What have I done wrong?"

The wind in the valley whispered a rustle within the trees, almost like a hushed moan of despair. But no real answer, just another fantasy from the night.

"Why has no one from his side tried to help me? Don't they know their only hope – their martyred savior, they'll realize – spends eighteen hours a day keeping them from starving away? I protect their liberty and their wallets, yet they want to throw me aside. I've done everything I could for them and their petty egos. Now I'm alone. Nothing's really changed for the better, I know that – oh, I should've, I should've gotten that hundred-million-Bell bond – but at least I've tried, and I've performed my best. I won't deny that, but they always do."

A quick thought, and now for a very quick moment a spiteful scowl flashed across her face.

"My term's ending soon. Those wretched Council folk and that boy Andy never wanted to help me fix this land. Heck, I'm the town's deliverer and all they've done is complain, complain, complain! Put me in silly inquiries to 'address policy issues' or even 'ethical review'. Like they know a thing about policy, trying to boot me out without a game plan of their own. Destroy this town while blaming me, not save it or help me – that's what they want to do. Especially that one boy."

And now, with her thoughts flowing still, spite melted away into the familiar, chronic worry. "So if they win – pssh, I'm so unpopular that 'if' is more like a 'when' – when they win elections and pack this Hall with Andy's helpful little helpers, what's gonna happen to this whole town? Really, they've got nothing to show for their blistering attacks on me – so what're they going to do? Their ideas are not going to work; they're not going to fix a damn thing..! The only thing they'll make bigger is the year's deficit, crime rates, and foreclosures! Thing's will only get worse, and I'm not going to have any power to stop their stupid play-by-ear 'rebuilding policy' that smiling Andy always drones about to everyone. No, I can't let them! I cannot let them win!"

Lucy quickly turned her back toward the window and anxiously buttoned up her coat and threw on her scarf. Madly she finished throwing about some thick papers, but just as soon as that, she turned back to the big window to the hills and sighed again, clutching her long, light hair with taut hands.

"But it's hopeless. I-I can't. I couldn't turn this town around, and after I'm walloped in the election coming up, I can't lift a finger against their spree. I don't have enough time to turn things around! If only I had another term – but in the name of democracy I know that's not going to be the case. I think... I think that maybe I might have... failed."

Biting her lip, Lucy turned away from the window and, eyes gazing in the dimly-lit room, spied something on the far side of her desk. Angular and curiously beckoning: a small box, and inside were twenty, neatly-wrapped cigarettes. Menthol Grey. A gift, she vaguely remembered, from some old tortoise, the past mayor who wildly misjudged her age (the coot wasn't an idiot, though; all mayors carried with them the burdens and stress of a whole city, and a shot of nicotine was often their singular relief, a solace far greater than that of a five-hour nap or ten o' clock tea).

"Aw, what am I even thinking," she muttered, tossing the whole bright blue-colored box into a trashbin. "As desperate as circumstances are, I'm not going into that gutter."

"Lucy? You're still here?" an equally-tired voice rung from the halls. "I heard you just now. Shouldn't you be heading back home?"

"Oh, hey Isabelle," the girl with fair blonde hair replied, "You're still here too? It's past one in the morning – why aren't you in bed at home? After all, the boss should always leave last. Besides, we've got a big day tomorrow," she said, forcing a grin toward her secretary.

"Tell me about it. Another hearing - like they haven't beat us up enough. Nothing productive; just another show of force to get us to bend to them. That's why I've stayed behind for a bit to finish up that report and get going on the inquiry statement – nothing too much."

Words of pure relief to Lucy, and her smile grew on its own. "The statement?! Oh thank you so much, Isabelle! I'm really, really thankful. Really. That you would stay here late like this to help, and- and-"

"Heyy, hey there Miss Mayor. I'm just doing my job, that's all. I just decided to put in a bit of extra work tonight so that we'd be fine tomorrow. We need to end our term on a decent note, I think, so I wanted to do something for you... hey, Lucy, are you-"

"No, no; I'm fine! I'm really fine," she chuckled, hiding away welling tears in the darkness. "Just... thank you so much. You've been always good to me, ever since the first day, two years ago when I came into office. When everything fell apart and when almost everybody just left me..."

The girl slumped back into her chair and, in the cover of darkness, wiped away her eyes with her crumpled tie. Her friend in the hall pretended not to notice, nodding silently to herself.

"Stressed again?" Isabelle asked.

"Damn inquiry," came a resigned huff.

"Don't worry; we can finish up the statement and replies tomorrow morning. Five A.M. I'll be here again, just like you always are in pinches like this. We'll make it through tomorrow and show all of them that we're better. And not involved whatever 'mismanagement audit' they'll bring up. Besides, it's not like Andy's that mean; all he wants is a little publicity and show-off,"

At the sound of her foe's name, the young mayor gripped hard her damp, black tie and snapped back, "Are you suggesting that he's helping our cause?!"

"Oh, for goodness sake. Calm down. I'm only saying that he's not as evil as you keep saying. Not even that bad of a guy... if you know what I mean," Isabelle winked.

"...shut up."

"Hehheh! Not even trying to deny it, aren't ya?"

"Come on, I've got better things to worry about than silly upstarts with train-wreck municipal plans. No matter how nice he seems or-"

"Aha. Caught you again."

"I don't have a clue what you're talking about."

"Really..?"

"Really."

"So what about that time after that Budgetary Meeting he talked to you about fishing or whatever and you were smiling, telling me how he's 'not half bad a guy' and-"

"Never said that," Lucy grumbled as her friend came inside the grand office to pester her.

"Okay, then maybe you'll remember that time when he invited you to 'talk about infrastructure policy compromises'... at Brewster's café. Just between the two of you."

"He's the leader of his party and I'm the leader of mine," the queen idly waved away, "It's simple review - or whatever you'd call his hashed-up plans to build some road. Or in that case, rare agreement. Just so happening to be... in a restaurant. On Friday night. And a little... talk beyond that."

"Pray tell, my dear queen, about such 'talk beyond that'?" the secretary teased.

"None of your business. And he's not going to talk to you about it either."

"Why's that?"

"...Ugh. You know what?"

"Hmm, Miss Mayor?"

"You win this one. But what happens in this office..."

"...stays in the office. Gotcha. And whatever else happens in a far-corner booth down at Brewster's on a romantic Friday even-"

"Allriggghhtallright, that's enough," Lucy cut off – but this time, with a rare smile. "His agenda and his personality are polar opposites. There, I said it," she chuckled.

"Mhm; glad you did. Want me to record that into the official minutes?"

"Whoaaa, let's not, haha. Sigh. Isabelle, you've always been here for me. You've been so good to me, never leaving my side like all the other 'advisers' and 'loyal Councilmembers' who've betrayed me for that Andy. Even when I've proved him wrong always. Even when they've yet to realize..."

"Hm?" Isabelle wondered, catching a quick shift in the girl's tone – for all the laughter the two briefly had in the night, it was beginning to fade just as quickly again. And these light moments, the secretary in the bright green sweater realized, had been getting shorter and shorter for weeks now. Like the golden relief of the winter sun.

"They've yet to realize that I'm the only one holding them away from a second Collapse. Another massive crisis. Doom for the town. Yes, Andy's a nice guy, but his ideas are silly at best, disastrous at worst."

"But more and more are joining his side."

"You don't need to remind me. We've known that for quite a while. It's like an avalanche, the way it is. And I'm all alone with no rescue, save you and a handful of others. All because... because I haven't turned the place around. You know what I did?" the little girl slouched in her chair asked, clutching her aching head and staring desperately to her friend.

The secretary realized what was to happen. "Lucy, you don't-"

"I've failed them; I've failed them all! Even after all the sleepless nights and work with friends and enemies, even after all I've done nothing has changed! Nothing for the better in two years – can't you see?! No matter how 'strong' those newscasters claim I am – what, even having the temerity to call me an 'Iron Lady' after a better woman – you know, and I know, that for what I'm worth... for what I can do, I'm just utterly worthless!"

It pained the girl in the green sweater to see Lucy completely broken. Isabelle walked into the room and, directly in front of her mayor and friend, leaned over the desk. "Please, Lucy, don't do this to yourself. You've got people coming back here, even if it's less than we've officially projected. We didn't make it back one hundred percent, but we're getting there – can't you see? It's not your fault either that things aren't going as fast as you wanted. You're working twenty-four-seven to fix the town. And I think that's the sort of mayor we'd all want, yes?"

But now, breakdowns like these became too frequent; consolation became nothing more than a palliative.

"I am the town, and I'm its deliverer. At least I'm supposed to be. And now they all want to rid me; just look at the polls. You know why – no amount of soft-talk like this can help."

"Oh come on; you know that's false. You're just tricking yourself; Andy and his group just want to reform things a bit. Add onto what you created. They don't want to 'destroy you' like what you keep saying to yourself. In fact, he-"

"Shut up! They're not our friends, do you understand?! They've never helped me. Only wanted to hurt me - friends don't do that, do they?! How's it feel to be the one, at least on the papers and TV screens, always responsible for another 'payroll scheme' or 'financial bungle', huh? And you know what – I hate to admit – they're not always wrong. No. It's just that I haven't enough time to fix things, never enough days or supporters to solve something just in time before another blows up. That's what. I have plans to turn everything around – but I need another term; I need another term to show them!"

Patience began to wither away. "Come on, Lucy, you can't keep saying that. How are we supposed to run the place when you're like this, just moping around in self-pity? You're not the strong queen you are in the day. You are acting like a little girl right now - not the mayor and friend I know."

"Oh, so you're with them too!" the girl in the black coat bitterly retorted. "Out of everybody I knew, it'd be you to call me out just like this, just at one at night alone. Now you're telling me to privy with those fools – what, will the next thing you suggest be for me to have sex with the boy?! Am I really so weakened by every scandal, every failure that I'll be your puppet now?"

"Lucy, calm down!" Isabelle commanded, shouted. "Enough with this! Even if I'm just your secretary, I know you're not yourself right now. Stop feeding yourself lies – you are not a failure, and you are sure as hell not weak. Mistakes are made, but you correct them and create successes in their place. That is your job – nothing else. You are a sixteen-year-old mayor who's stopped a further Collapse; Andy is no more than a sixteen-year-old boy who only wants to help revive this town just as much as you do. So stop your whining and get back to the queen I see each morning. All you need is more time, that's what."

"Right. Time. And we've got a mayoral election coming up in which I'm bound to lose."

"We haven't even started and you're claiming that?!"

"Will you just please shut up?!" Lucy screamed.

Now Silence. Dead silence. Perfect, somber quietude rested like a grey mist over the two bickering friends, a mayor and her subordinate. The clock went tick tick tick overhead, and in the darkness the girl with pale-blonde hair slumped back down in her chair.

"You want to know why I'm up late nights like these, Isabelle?" she whispered.

"Stress. Depression. Andy. His horde. Elections. Failure. I know, and I'm sorry for yelling at you like that," she huffed back.

"Isabelle, I think you fail to see that I've tried every plan imaginable," the girl, too tired to mount another protest, mumbled. "Stimulus bonds. Getting Copper's help to reform the Police Department. Keeping Blathers' museum from going under. Nothing has worked to turn the tide, all because Andy's stupid coalition blocks each and every of my plans. Well that's great for them, but for me, I'm desperately running out of time to turn things around. And Andy's no help - that's why I hate him for causing me to trip over my own plans. Each night I reflect on failures... like these. They all haunt me, especially that last one: to see Blathers and Celeste move away, to see the marbled museum boarded up – that's what hurts me the most. And again, that's what everyone just loves to talk about in my face. If only I had some more time... but with that election upcoming... I have no chance.."

"I stayed away from mentioning election season; I figured tomorrow's inquiry would be more than enough on your plate. But it seems like we've got ourselves another avalanche too."

"Well, we've tried our best, and we've failed. But tomorrow's another day, of course. And the next day. And the next until I'm gone. I tried my hardest, but I don't have enough time to turn things around. Or at least show them that I can."

"You're treating the upcoming election as if you've already lost. 'I don't have enough time'; what are you now?"

"A trapped mayor who's grounded in reality. Unlike my likely competitor."

"Well if that's the case, I'd like to see you actually find that reality. Come on, let's get over the past. We're going to work for the future – that's what you always wanted anyhow. So let's talk election season coming up."

"Preliminary opinion stats look dismal. Televised hearings don't help. Really, what are you trying to suggest, Isabelle? I'm not going to waste time and money on a futile attempt."

"Not like saving this town and its citizens?" the secretary insinuated. Lucy felt a bit of vengeful sharpness in her friend's voice and caught a very faint suggestion of what she'd suggest. "You always told me that you needed more time to 'turn things around'. Like it's the right thing, some heroic crusade for you."

"I told you, it's not going to happen. I've failed in this term, and I'll reap the bitter fruits of that. The whole town will, too, when it elects Andy as mayor."

"Not if you win another two years."

"Fat chance."

"Them let me reword; I didn't say by vote. I merely said, as a good friend and faithful adviser, win another two years."

"Isabelle, I have no chance of being democratically elected again. What the hell are you suggesting?"

"You say 'democratically'," the other girl clicked. "I never used that term. I propose... an alternate option to extend two years to our mayoral agenda."

And now the catch. Shifting, untrusting eyes turned away from the secretary. "Don't you dare suggest-"

"What options do we have? Slinking our heads in disgrace?"

The girl in the blonde hair and black coat was too tired to retort. And now, she gave an answer she, as the town's queen and savior, thought she'd give:

"I can turn this place around. I want to; I need to. For everyone; for Blathers and Celeste. Just two more years. And I need to keep that wake of destruction away from this office. Isabelle, I've trusted you for years; I can trust you at this hour – tell me. Please."

Drawing a long sigh, the secretary, hidden in the thick, heavy darkness of winter night drawled slowly back. "Did you ever wonder how our former mayor, Tortimer, always won an election? And at least 65% of the vote, no less, until he retired for some island resort. Dementia too. But, do you remember how?"

"I've heard stories. I'm not keen to fall for conspiracies, though."

"He used a couple tricks here and there, yes. I'll admit. But he never lost – even on rough years – and those methods were the reasons why."

"You aren't suggesting for me, the mayor of this town, to go down the gutter in bribery and extortion, are you?" Lucy firmly questioned. She barely saw the other girl, even when they were a mere desk-width apart.

"I haven't suggested anything yet. As your secretary and hopeful campaign manager, I'm only laying out possible options and methodologies. Some unorthodox."

"By unorthodox you mean tossing away a democratic system and grasping another term with money – and even a kidnapping. A truly violent way to just clasp onto this seat. Yeah, I heard Tortimer wasn't above holding hostage and a bit more to his opponent one bad year. You want me to kidnap and hurt Andy just to win another two years?"

"Not Andy. His 'stupid policy' is what we want kidnapped, don't you remember? You were even the one who suggested he wasn't 'half-bad as a guy'. He'll be thoroughly demoralized along with his following, and you'll even get the chance to have a surprise date with him," Isabelle dryly chuckled.

But her friend didn't laugh to this joke. "Shut up. I don't know you. I'm not going down that gutter."

"Say what you want. But as your secretary – no, as your friend, I've got something to show you that'll convince you otherwise. Here:"

"Convince me otherwise. What are you, an assassin? I only care about serving the townfolk, turning around my failure in as much time as I can."

"Remember, Ms. Mayor, you don't have any more time," the secretary curtly followed. From a little black shoulder-bag she was carrying, she pulled out a neat sheet of paper with a jumble of words and numbers. Lucy grabbed it from her hands and flicked on a dim light to read the fine print.

"What is it? Another death threat to the mayor?"

"Essentially. It's today's special statistics and budget report from our faithful advisers and bureaucrats," the secretary matter-of-factly announced. "Knew you were busy all day today, so I took the liberty of summarizing it and bringing it to you here. But I've got to warn you, reading this will do nothing to help our situation."

Lucy waved her off, brought it close to her face, and carefully read the grave words: "Independent Audit: Budget shortfall (ninety-seven million Bells) imminent. Infrastructural repair to be cancelled due to lack of funding. Job growth, according to fiscal year report, now approaching another dip."

She kept reading further and saw nothing but more heartbreaking news. No words to her secretary, just a shocked, gaping face. "...police station may not be fully operational with increased funding. Budget revision for such is underway. Dangerously low on fiscal funding; Requesting mayoral proposition, thus, for a default on loans listed below... will recommend inquiry for gross financial mismanagement also.

...

Signed, Andy."

She dropped the perfect paper before she could finish reading. "So this is what... they wanted. Default..? That means that we're truly... bankrupt? No, no, no..! I-I thought I did what I could! Damn him... that Andy! "

"We did. But it seems-"

The girl in blonde cut her off and clutched her hair like a madman. "Time, time, I need more time! More time to turn this disaster around! Arrghh, that boy, that stupid boy is trying to destroy me, but I need to save this place from crumbling further! Isabelle, we cannot let Andy win! Arrghh, I screwed up again, again!" Lucy, in a fit of panic, yelled back.

Now a smile, so deceivingly gentle, had encroached the secretary's lips. "But wouldn't it be better to let someone else try to fix the problem? After all, I thought you said you were a failure yourself."

"I don't care! A rescuer does not back down from her people when they need her! The mayor does not run from her enemies; I will prove to them that I can save the town! Hahah! And I'll show – oh I'll show Andy – that I am a better leader and mayor than he'll even be!"

"Then we must act when the campaign time comes. My friend, it seems that for another two years to save our people... we must make a small sacrifice."

"I don't care. Another term, more time! That's what I need to save this town."

"My friend," the secretary smiled, full of warmth and benevolence. "Would you like to revisit that old idea with me? Just the two of us?"

"You..! But... without... I-"

"Say the word, and it'll be done, my friend."

The cool darkness, the perfect black of night had finally settled in that room as the dim bulb of the lamp died with a tiny pop! and fadeout. In that dark hour, the girl let loose her arms, her whole body, and her soul as she uttered very quiet words to her new master.

"...my job is to serve the people as their rightful mayor. I'm their savior, not that Andy."

"Good," her secretary grinned, the shadows forming even without the desk-light. "I'm glad we're on the same page. But it's almost two in the morning right now, and we've got to get some sleep. How about we talk about this tomorrow after that annoying inquiry? Twelve hours from now. I'll gather up some of those unorthodox plans I've talked about. You want to meet after lunch to discuss?"

"Yeah... those plans," she murmured. "Sure. I'll meet."

Isabelle nodded. She said nothing when her friend eyed a little (bluish, that was the color?) box, picked it from her trashbin, and began to twirl it in her hands. A flap undid itself, and a couple dark, pencil-thin objects rolled across the desk.

And as if nothing happened, she reverted to her usual chuckle and waved cutely to her friend. "Right. But think positively; I believe in you! Two more years. That'll be the trick. What, don't you know? We'll save the whole town and throw this little incident under the rug. Ends will justify means, you know. Yawwn. Alrighty Miss Mayor, I'm heading back home, but I'll be back by five to get ready for that inquiry statement, again. So yeah, I'm going now. See you soon. Hope you get some shut-eye, boss," her faithful secretary smiled. And with that, she quietly turned around in the darkness, opened a big, wooden door, and walked out into the cold snow with a scrunch, scrunch, scrunch.

"Bye..." a murmur creaked back. And now all alone the tired little girl, the lonely queen sat in her office chair. Suddenly, as if the aching in her head had left her, she felt only a numbness in her mind. A wash of grey in her brain. Time passed onward slowly with a tick... tick... tick...

Lucy swiveled her chair around and looked out again through the big window. Snow was now falling, and a heavy sheet of grey had begun to coat the whole world over with cold wetness. "It's a new day, all right," she whispered to herself in a tiny voice. "Snow washes over everything, and all the land is anew with a cool-white canvas. But not even a blanket like snow can wash over what is to save this town. I never told her; she never told me - but we both know Tortimer did more than just a simple kidnapping to get his way in his most desperate hour. That candidate was never heard of again... And I know she'll suggest that same for Andy. Heck, by now she's probably already made some calls - I saw her calling as she left. Wait; no! Is that any worse than letting tens of thousands suffer under his foolish schemes?.. but to rid of him, rid of a guy like him this way? That night at Brewster's he even promised 'after all this is over' to invite me again... is he really the devil I thought he was? That smiling, green-eyed boy I now plan to murder?! Oh dear; what have I done? Am I really going down this low for just two more years? To 'save' our citizens again?"

She held her hair for one final time, and a small clump of blonde finally gave way and fell from her fingers.

And now the clock struck two with another peal of brass bells. Ding-dong. Ding-dong. The wrapping-up ritual was still not yet finished; before she could allow herself to trudge back home through the snow, she'd look through her plan for tomorrow - just a final checkup. With heavy hands and heart and with cascading hair blocking out the dim light, she scrawled in red ink onto her neat agenda book a couple words on the "2 PM" section:

"Discuss election scheme w/ Isabelle."

The girl clutched her hair and sat frozen, rigid in her chair. Tick... tick... tick... The headache resumed and faded; in the darkness of her room nothing – not the bookshelf, chairs, doorway – could she see with that dim desk-lamp. Everything was pitch-black inside the room and outside in the cold, snowy January air.

Except for a couple pencil-thin sticks, which rolled out from that box, all across her desk. Slouched over on her desk, she hardly noticed, until now while she rose from her chair, those little gifts from Tortimer. With shaking hands and curious, tired pupils, she eyed and grabbed a single black slim. Menthol Grey.

"Two more years... two more years... haha, just a little more time to save my people. It's all right in the end, just for two years..."

With fingers shaking violently, so much so that she used her right hand to control the left, Lucy fumbled out a pocket lighter from her black coat and numbly flicked on a tiny flame. For a brief moment, she held it close to the dab end of the cigarette and, thin fingers wisping the stick unconsciously to her lips all the while, let it go.

In the darkness of the Town Hall mayoral office at two in the night, thick, grey clouds of smoke began to form.

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed the mini-story, please leave a review or favorite. Questions, comments, and suggestions are always welcome!

And yes, I'm still "No More Weeping, No More Shame". Just wanted to take a little break to write this psychodrabble.