I remember the night, watchingWalter Cronkite on the evening news. He cried when he said Rev. King had been shot. I was too young to understand why people hated those whose skin was different. All I knew was my favorite uncle studied to become a minister, just like Rev. King. All I could think was would they shoot my uncle too.
When I asked my mom why anyone would want to kill a minister, she had no words.
Free Fiction Monday: Coin of the Realm
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