Hilda couldn’t contain herself. The next morning, while setting up her stall, she started a whispering campaign.
“Don’t you think a month is just a pickle too long?” she shouted into the wind.
“They’re just perfectionists,” shouted a stall owner.
“Yeah,” shouted another.
“It’s a figurine,” huffed Hilda.
“So?”
“Yeah, so?”
“The size of a hand,” said Hilda.
“So?”
“Yeah, so?”
“So what’s with the tent the size of a temple?”
“Those workers are just milking it,” said a voice from the back.
No one answered, but a few did wonder, sparking off the sort of whispering that breeds discontent.
Hilda smiled to herself. “Everyone thinks it’s so easy to rule,” she muttered, not that anyone heard.
---
The statue “went public” by accident when a tornado whipped into the city, tossed a few stal
