I Don’t Need a Guillotine for My Revolution

The next day.

Countless people attended Jidor's funeral.

Many mourned and respected the politician, once feared, who died defending the revolution.

Eris's clear voice sang a funeral dirge as an endless procession laid flowers on Jidor's coffin.

Christine and I walked along the procession and reached Jidor's coffin.

Christine placed her flowers and stepped back, covering her mouth with a fan as she looked at me.

Her eyes, usually coldly submerged, held a soft spark that seemed to say she was on my side, no matter what I did.

I looked back at her, then turned and slowly reached out.

I offer flowers, while alive, to the man who sentenced me to death before the regression.