Heavy

It was heavier than I expected. They say a leader was never burdened by the weight of the clan on their shoulders, but by that of the crown on their head. This crown.

That’s before it sat locked in a glass box, its weight upheld not by the fortitude of a hero, but by a little plastic stand. Admittedly, the stand could wear it longer.

Once, it was a great honor to be this close to the crown, and now anyone could come tap on the glass and say “how pretty.” I shouldn’t be holding it, but better me than them.

Your eyes take a moment to adjust to a sudden flood of light. Sometimes, it’s accompanied by a headache, and you start to see spots. You know how that feels. Then, imagine the room starts to echo with shouts, and in with the light and noise floods the realization that you’re doomed, that you wasted your one chance. Do you know how that feels?

I contemplated placing it on my head, as an act of final defiance, but I imagined that the last person to hold it had the same urge, so instead my arms sank with the weight.