As everyone hurried to update banners, shift decorations, and repaint signs in honor of their late King instead of… well… the old me, I watched genuine pride brighten every corner of the festival.
It wasn’t hollow celebration.
It was reverence.
Their movements carried purpose. Their smiles softened. Their voices held warmth instead of that tight politeness I’d felt before. They weren’t just decorating—
They were remembering someone they loved.
And strangely enough… I felt honored to witness it.
The respect they showed their King had made them strong.
Grounded.
Gentle in all the ways that mattered.
As I moved between colorful stands—woven blankets, sizzling platters, fruit baskets, and vibrant ribbons—the vendors greeted me with open arms.
One elderly baker placed a sweet pastry i
