The horse kicked and neighed, tossing its head to throw Tennyson
from its back. Tennyson held on and spurred the beast to ride faster. He didn’t
look behind him. He would only see white hats. Hats like his own.
When he thought himself safe, he slid from the horse,
letting it run off and not concerning himself with keeping it. It wasn’t his after
all. He pulled the white hat from his head and ripped the shirt bearing a
silver star from his chest, boots grinding both into the dirt.
He was handed a new black one and smiled thanks.
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