The Rotunda and the Reminder
Two days later, the Rotunda filled with quiet reverence.
Major Brenner stood at the lectern, Silver Star resting against cloth.
“This,” he said, lifting it to the light, “is not a prize. It’s a reminder — of names not here, of how to carry oneself in their honor.”
He paused.
“A few days ago, someone forgot what respect looks like. A few minutes later, others remembered. That’s the country I know — flawed, but capable of repair. Not measured by mistakes, but by the speed of our correction.”
Applause rose gently — affirmation, not spectacle.
