Everything was immaculate. Even the paving stones were scoured clean.
The throngs slowly filled the street sides like a rising tide. They were subdued, yet an energy unlike anything before filled the air.
The parade was short, the members in it few, but the intensity was too much for some.
Hidden tears. Hidden laughs. Hidden jeers.
Still as a postcard, vibrant as the sun.
When it was done, people walked away, quiet.
Would it be different? Would a new world truly dawn?
Those are my memories. That was what I saw the day they hung the last king.
Word count = 100