Reams of paperwork cluttered the large mahogany desk. Not exactly a great look for President of the Southeast, a territory carved from the ruins of the former United States. But Malcolm Van Corte didn’t care, his attention fixated on his cocktail.
A vodka martini. Well shaken with a splash of vermouth and a lemon twist.
He savored his sip from the perfectly chilled glass.
Soon alcohol would become illegal in his province. All he had to do was sign the document.
Of course, the President had no intention of curbing his own appetite. Laws, he knew, were for the powerless.
The Weekday One Hundred 