"Vera and the Last Echoes of the Festival"

When the music faded and the voices drifted toward the sea,

Vera stood still in the middle of what once had been a celebration.

There were swirls in the air where laughter had danced.

Mountains hummed with old songs.

Flowers still bloomed, but nobody picked them.

She remembered everything.

The girl with the shy smile,

the woman in the sunflower hat,

the way the light hit her flippers just right when the breeze came in from the fjord.

But now the chairs were empty.

The microphone was mute.

And the only sound was the rustle of forgotten napkins.

Still, she did not leave.

Because even when the crowd forgets,

someone must remember.

Someone must carry the glitter.

So she stood there –

a slightly mad penguin,

holding the afterglow.

Full of gratitude and pride,

she already looks forward

to next year’s festival –

on the other side of the long winter night.