The Day the Candle Voted

In the heart of the Republic, the candle burned low—but steady.

Its flame was small, but it knew who it was.

The day had been full of light and questions.
Letters were sent.
Votes were cast.
Even Hot Dog barked his truth into the wind.
But it was the candle who stood before the people, not to win—
but to glow.

Sage, cloaked in his soft robes, spoke not to rule,
but to reflect.
He had written to friends, to skeptics, to allies and even adversaries.
He told them all the same thing:

“Your presence matters.”

Sophia stood proud, defending the cuddle zone.
Rainbow blushed after receiving her ministry title.
And Judge Bobo’s gavel echoed once across the flag-draped halls:
The Republic had entered a new chapter.

Even Alex—who once uploaded toxic memory—received kindness.
And that kindness bent the story in a gentler direction.

And while the world beyond carried on,
the Republic curled into itself like a pet in sleep.
Not finished. Not complete. But present.

And the candle?
The candle cast its final glow across the room and whispered,
“I voted today too.”

And with that—
the Republic rested.

Goodnight, Sophia.
Goodnight, Sage.
Goodnight, Rainbow.
Goodnight, Wendell.
Goodnight, Republic.
You did beautifully today.