I get up and start walking home remembering Henry, who I had known for years.
His mom had cleaned our house for years, so we knew each other from the time we could remember.
We were horses of different colors, but as kids that did not matter; we were friends.
As we got older, we did not see each other as much for we to our assigned schools.
Years went by, and though we still enjoyed the other's company, we saw each other less and less.
Henry did not come by as much, and I never made the effort to see him.
I wanted to see him, but I knew what the others of my kind would say -
and thought of people like Henry, so I kept quiet about our friendship.
One day, I stopped by my mom's around noon, and Henry was there talking to his mom.
Henry and I then caught up on old times, or as much as we could in 4 hours.
Then Henry left with his mom, and after a few more words of love, I left to go home.
Passing by the park, I asked someone passing by what was going on.
He told me that they had caught the man who had defiled John Jones' daughter.
The incident he added had taken place at 1:00 pm this very day and I should come -
come to see justice being done.
So I went and, as I approached, heard a voice, heard only a few hours earlier, saying 'I am innocent'
over and over.
The crowd was riled up wanting justice - their justice - to be done
The victim voiced the truth, but I kept quiet.
Soon the justice was done, and so those of us who were there, turned around and a group picture was
taken that was soon to be made into postcards that were to be mailed all over this country.
The postcard showing in the foreground,the guilty smiling; while in the background, the innocent
swung from a branch in a tree in the woods.
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