Ethan took one step back. He looked over the crowd one last time.
“My name is Ethan Miller. This is my daughter, Lily. And we aren’t going anywhere.”
The silence that followed his final word was absolute. It was a vacuum of sound, a collective holding of breath that lasted for several agonizing, transcendent heartbeats. The world seemed to stop spinning.
Then, in the very back row, near the exit doors, a single person stood up. It was Martha from the diner. She brought her hands together in a loud, echoing clap.
Then, a teacher in the faculty section stood.
Then, an entire row of students in blue gowns stood up.
Within ten seconds, it was a tidal wave. The entire auditorium—a thousand people—was on its feet. The thunderous, deafening roar of a standing ovation shook the wooden floorboards. People were cheering, whistling, and clapping until their hands hurt. The very people who had laughed and whispered minutes before were now openly wiping away tears.
