The Red Sea of Devotees
The glass casket, once a shield, now seemed a fragile and frosted barrier against the tide of faith.
The air crackled with anticipation, a million whispers blending into a thrumming hum. The Quirino Grandstand, bathed in darkness, was a sea of maroon shirts, a tide of devotion pulsing towards the lone figure in the center. The Black Nazarene, shrouded in its glass casket, seemed to hold the weight of a million hopes, a million prayers.