Harrisburg, the Hilton Hotel.
A whiteboard was plastered with a dense array of senators' photos.
Red X's, green checkmarks, and a large number of yellow question marks for the "undecided."
Leo Wallace stood before the whiteboard, the marker in his hand warm from his tight grip.
"Twenty-three votes."
Leo stared at the number, his voice hoarse.
"Even counting the three poor souls we've driven into a corner, plus our guaranteed base of support, we only have twenty-three votes."
"We're still three votes short of a simple majority of twenty-six."
"And we're a far cry from the supermajority needed to force an end to the debate."
Leo tossed the marker aside and turned to look out the floor-to-ceiling window at the brightly lit state capital, a sense of defeat washing over him.
In the end, he had underestimated these senators who sat at the apex of power in Harrisburg.
