It wasn't always that a king is crowned in America. In fact it was never.
The closest it'd come was on January the 20th. When the world would stop and hold its breath for the presidential inauguration.
Oh and what an affair it was.
The crowd would stretch like an emerald sea, as far as the eye can see.
Glorious, glamorous statesmen and stateswomen sat perched on the throne of the West front of the capitol.
The chants would grow with each boom from the voices on the microphone. A pulse of energy signaling a world anew. A brand new era, the promise of economic relief.
It was electrifying.
You could see it on Mitchell's stern face. A serious person, about to do serious business. Yet the twitch in his jaw belied a shy smile. The silver of his tie shone as bright as the hope he brought to the citizens of the country. His country.
William Mitchell.
The 45th president of America. The All American, no nonsense family guy. The guy you could trust.
And right next to him, beaming with devotion and pride, Eleanor Mitchells. She looked every bit the first lady she'd always dreamed to be. Her cold bitten cheeks, glowed in blush. Regal in her deep purple Tom Ford she stood as her husbands voice boomed over the speakers and he took his oath of office.
Yes, it wasn't always that a king was crowned in America, but William Mitchell certainly looked it today.
