The night was still and cold, but in Montgomery, Alabama, something electric coursed through the air.
Word of Rosa Parks' arrest spread like wildfire, first among neighbors, then through churches, barbershops, and community gatherings.
At first, it was whispered, passed along with cautious glances and hushed voices.
But soon, the whispers turned into fervent conversations, voices rising with indignation and resolve.
In a city long suffocated by injustice, the embers of resistance were finally catching flame.
By morning, the news had traveled far beyond Montgomery.
The story of a quiet woman who had refused to yield to an unjust law resonated deeply with a people who had grown weary of enduring indignity.
Rosa Parks had been arrested not because she'd raised her voice, not because she'd caused a scene, but because she had simply refused to move.
